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MEDIEVAL  CIVILIZATION 


MEDIEVAL 

CIVILIZATION 


SELECTED  STUDIES  FROM  EUROPEAN  AUTHORS 
TRANSLATED  AND  EDITED 

BY 

DANA  CARLETON  MUNRO 

AND 

GEORGE  CLARKE  SELLERY 

JEn largefc  Edition 


*3  4-  T?  1 


NEW  YORK 
THE  CENTURY  CO. 
1907 


Copyright,  1904,  1907,  by 

The  Century  Co. 


THE  DE  VINNE  PRESS 


?0  I 

AA?<>y 

)  ?  a  7 


/  o  /  f  L ) 

lux 


Table  of  Contents 


Victory  of  the  Latin  Language 

Bloch  .  .  .  . 

•  3 

The  Landed  Aristocracy  and 
the  Beginnings  of  Serfdom  . 

Bloch  .  .  .  . 

.  18 

Taxation  in  the  Fourth  Century 

Bloch  .  .  .  . 

•  34 

Influence  of  the  Migrations 

Martroye  .  .  . 

•  44 

Germans  in  the  Roman  Em¬ 
pire  . 

Lavisse  .  . 

•  So 

Faith  and  Morals  of  the  Franks 

Lavisse 

.  6o 

The  Hippodrome  at  Constanti¬ 
nople  . 

Diehl  .  .  .  . 

.  87 

Christian  Missions  in  Gaul  and 
Germany  in  the  Seventh  and 
Eighth  Centuries  .... 

Berthelot  . 

.  1 14 

The  Economic  Influence  of 
Monasteries  ...... 

Cunningham 

.  129 

Cluny . 

Lucliaire  . 

•  137 

Monks  of  the  Twelfth  Century 

Garreati  . 

•  153 

The  Elements  of  Feudalism 

Esmein 

•  159 

s  4-")  n  ^ 


Table  of  Contents 


PAGE 


Mutual  Obligations  of  Lords 

^  and  Vassals . 

Luchaire  .... 

168 

The  Realities  of  Feudalism  .  . 

t/. 

Feudal  Wars . 

Lucliaire  .  .  .  . 

1 71 

Luchaire  .  .  .  . 

177 

/? 

-  The  Church  and  Feudalism  .  . 

Viollet  and  Garreau 

CO 

00 

The  Church  and  Feudalism  .  . 

Seignobos  .... 

199 

The  Exercise  of  Feudal  Rights 
over  the  Church  in  Langue¬ 
doc,  900-1250  . 

Molinier  .  .  .  . 

202 

The  Non-Universality  of  Feu-  ■ 

dalism . 

Saige . 

210 

Byzantine  Civilization  .  .  . 

Bayet . 

212 

Moslem  Civilization  in  Spain  . 

Dozy . 

224 

'-Chivalry . 

Flach  . 

240 

Character  and  Results  of  the 

Crusades . ’  .  . 

Seignobos  .  .  .  . 

248 

Ibn  Jubair’s  Account  of  his 

Journey  through  Syria  .  . 

Ibn  Jubair 

257 

Material  for  Literature  from 

the  Crusades  . 

Vaublanc  .... 

269 

Classical  Learning  in  the  Mid- 

die  Ages . 

Voigt . 

277 

The  Latin  Classics  in  the  Mid- 

die  Ages . 

Graf . 

285 

VI 


Table  of  Contents 

PAGE 

The  Development  of  the  Ro¬ 
mance  Languages,  especially 


those  of  France  .... 

Darmesteter . 

•  •  3io 

Evolution  of  the  German  Lan¬ 
guage  . 

Weise  .  .  . 

•  •  326 

Life  and  Interests  of  the  Students 

Lecoy  de  la  Marche  348 

City  Life  in  Germany 

Lamprecht  . 

•  •  358 

Advice  of  St.  Louis  to  his  Son 

St.  Louis 

.  .  366 

Life  of  Gerbert . 

Havet . 

•  •  376 

Saint  Bernard . 

Lucliaire . 

.  .  406 

Southern  France  and  the  Re¬ 
ligious  Opposition  .... 

Luchaire  . 

.  .  432 

The  Intellectual  Movement  of 
the  Thirteenth  Century  . 

Langlois  . 

.  .  458 

Antecedents  of  the  Renaissance 

Gebhart  . 

•  •  474 

St.  Louis . 

Langlois  . 

•  •  491 

Relation  of  Antiquity  to  the 
Renaissance . 

Neranann 

.  .  524 

French  Army  in  the  time  of 
Charles  VII . 

Roloff  .  . 

•  •  547 

List  of  Works  from  which  Se¬ 
lections  have  been  Drawn  . 

vii 


Index 


579 


Preface  to  First  Edition 


This  book  is  offered  as  a  partial  solution  of  the  problem 
which  confronts  every  instructor  in  medieval  history. 
Pressing  library  needs  usually  prevent  him  from  securing 
an  adequate  supply  of  duplicate  books,  for  supplementary 
readings.  In  the  rare  cases  in  which  the  instructor  suc¬ 
ceeds  in  securing  books,  many  works  of  great  value  still 
remain  inaccessible  to  the  average  student  because  he 
cannot  use  the  continental  languages.  This  book  has 
been  prepared  in  the  belief  that  it  will  enable  the  instruc¬ 
tor  to  assign  and  to  quiz  all  members  of  the  class  upon 
the  same  supplementary  readings,  and  that  it  will  at  the 
same  time  permit  the  students  to  utilize,  in  a  fuller  mea¬ 
sure,  the  results  of  European  scholarship  in  the  medieval 
field. 

It  is  not  a  ^source-book.  In  making  it  we  have,  with 
two  or  three  exceptions,  drawn  upon  modern  authors, 
making  selections  on  topics  which  are  not  adequately 
treated  in  English.  We  have  translated  and  adapted 
what  we  have  chosen  in  order  to  make  the  selections 
more  useful  to  students.  Often  the  translations  are  very 
free;  at  times  whole  pages  are  omitted.  We  believe,  how¬ 
ever,  that  in  no  case  have  we  made  any  change  which  is 
not  in  accord  with  the  author’s  point  of  view.  It  is 
scarcely  necessary  to  add,  what  is  very  apparent  from 


ix 


Preface 


the  opposing  views  furnished,  that  we  do  not  always 
agree  with  the  authors.  But  each  selection  is  worthy  of 
careful  study  and  thorough  consideration. 

Our  thanks  are  due  to  the  publishers  who  have  so 
kindly  allowed  us  to  employ  their  books.  We  hope  that 
the  selections  will  cause  teachers  and  the  more  advanced 
students  to  use  the  originals  for  further  guidance ;  we 
know  that  our  little  book  will  have  only  a  partial  success 
if  it  does  not  lead  many  to  go  to  the  fountains  from  which 
we  have  drawn. 

*  Dana  Carleton  Munro 

George  Clarke  Sellery 


University  of  Wisconsin, 
October  24,  1904. 


Preface  to  Enlarged  Edition  of  1907 

This  enlarged  volume  is  designed  for  the  use  of  the  gen¬ 
eral  student  of  medieval  history.  The  greater  number 
of  the  selections  will,  it  is  confidently  believed,  prove 
useful  to  beginners  in  the  subject ;  some  of  them  are 
specially  interesting  to  the  more  mature  ;  all  of  them 
should  prove  valuable  for  class  use  in  the  hands  of  the 
skillful  teacher. 


x 


Medieval  Civilization 


MEDIEVAL  CIVILIZATION 


Victory  of  the  Latin  Language 

Adapted  from  G.  Bloch,  in  Lavisse:  Histoire  de  France , 
Vol.  I,  Part  ii,  1900,  pp.  388-398. 

HE  Latin  which  gave  birth  to  the  Romance  languages 


x.  was  vulgar  Latin,  that  is,  the  Latin  of  the  common 
people.  It  accompanied  the  soldiers  of  the  legions,  the  co¬ 
lons,  and  the  emigrants  of  every  kind,  from  Italy  into  the 
provinces,  and  thus  became  the  language  of  the  people  of 
all  Western  Europe — the  spoken,  not  the  written,  language. 
We  can  reconstruct  this  language  to  a  certain  extent,  with 
the  aid  of  the  hints  let  fall  by  different  writers,  but  only  in 
a  most  general  way.  It  is  well-nigh  impossible  to  follow 
the  alterations  which  it  underwent  through  contact  with 
the  native  dialects  in  Gaul  and  elsewhere.  The  essential 
fact  to  remember  is  that  it  differed  from  the  literary  Latin 
of  the  educated  classes.  It  gained  undivided  sway  over 
the  lower  classes,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  speech  of  their 
fathers,  and  after  a  long  and  determined  struggle  with  the 
literary  Latin  of  the  upper  classes,  it  won  recognition, 
when  at  length  the  decay  of  higher  learning  delivered  to 
it  the  whole  of  society.  It  could  now  expand  everywhere, 
develop  freely  according  to  its  own  inner  law,  and  finally, 


Medieval  Civilization 


under  the  form  of  the  Romance  tongues,  usurp  the  place 
of  the  older  Latin. 

The  complete  victory  of  the  popular  Latin,  in  fact,  only 
slightly  preceded  in  point  of  time  its  own  submission  to 
these  new  idioms  which  it  carried  in  the  germ.  It  was  in 
the  fifth  century  that  it  definitely  took  possession  of  Gaul, 
throughout  the  whole  extent  of  its  territory,  and  from  the 
highest  to  the  lowest  classes  of  the  population.  Only  old 
Aquitaine,  between  the  Pyrenees  and  the  Garonne,  suc¬ 
cessfully  resisted  complete  conquest.  There,  in  the 
Basque  country,  the  Iberian  speech,  more  tenacious  than 
the  Celtic,  raised  for  itself  an  impregnable  citadel.  As  for 
Brittany,  it  seems  well  proven  to-day  that  the  Celtic  dia¬ 
lect,  still  current  in  its  most  remote  districts,  does  not  date 
back  to  the  age  of  Gallic  independence,  but  is  merely  an 
importation  of  the  insular  Britons  who  fled  before  the 
Saxons,  from  the  fifth  to  the  seventh  centuries  a.d. 

Thus,  by  a  kind  of  paradox,  it  is  when  she  is  about  to 
succumb  that  Rome  wins  this  last  triumph.  But  it  is 
only  a  seeming  paradox.  We  must  not  be  deceived  by  the 
division  of  history  into  convenient  periods.  The  prestige 
of  Rome  survived  her  material  power.  She  still  remained, 
for  the  different  peoples,  the  mistress  of  the  world  and  the 
benefactress  of  the  human  race.  She  had  just  been  cap¬ 
tured  by  Alaric  when  Rutilius  sang  her  immortal  destiny, 
and  it  is  about  the  same  epoch  that  there  appears  for  the 
first  time  in  our  texts  the  newly  coined  Romania,  so  hap¬ 
pily  conceived  to  designate,  in  one  word,  her  empire  and 
her  civilization.  It  is  not  a  matter  for  surprise  that  the 
victories  of  Latin  were  prosecuted  in  the  midst  of  events 
which  destroyed  Roman  unity. 


4 


Victory  of  the  Latin  Language 

The  Romans  did  not  make  war  on  Celtic,  the  language 
of  the  Gauls.  They  undoubtedly  knew  that  their  rule 
would  gain  greatly  through  the  diffusion  of  Latin,  and 
they  neglected  nothing  to  extend  its  use.  But  in  the  fur¬ 
therance  of  their  object,  they  did  not  have  recourse  to  any 
tyrannical  measures.  In  the  course  of  the  third  century, 
they  even  authorized  the  making  of  wills  in  Celtic. 

Celtic  disappeared  before  Latin  because  Celtic  was  bar¬ 
barism  and  Latin  was  civilization.  Latin  attracted,  there¬ 
fore,  all  minds  eager  for  culture ;  and  it  possessed  the 
additional  advantage  of  being  the  official  language,  with¬ 
out  which  it  was  impossible  to  get  along. 

It  was  the  official  language  of  the  Roman  government 
and  of  its  agents  of  every  grade.  The  Romans  did  not 
have  the  same  respect  for  the  rough  dialects  of  the  West 
as  for  Greek.  They  did  not  have  their  public  acts  trans¬ 
lated  into  the  Western  languages.  It  was  the  business  of 
the  natives  to  understand  these  acts  or  to  have  them  ex¬ 
plained  to  them. 

Latin  was  also  the  official  language  of  the  city  govern¬ 
ments.  This  point  is  clear  in  the  case  of  the  colonies, 
although  there  may  be  some  difficulties  with  regard  to  the 
other  kinds  of  cities.  Unfortunately,  the  inscriptions 
which  alone  could  settle  the  question  conclusively  are  in¬ 
sufficient  in  number,  and  belong  in  general  to  a  late  epoch, 
about  which  there  is  no  longer  any  question.  Neverthe¬ 
less,  it  is  worthy  of  note  that  none  has  been  found  which 
is  not  in  Latin.  And  at  Bordeaux  and  at  Saintes,  there 
are  inscriptions,  written  in  Latin  by  the  magistrates,  which 
date  from  the  first  century.  Is  it  likely  that  the  Romans 
were  less  tolerant  toward  the  language  of  their  subjects 

5 


Medieval  Civilization 


than  they  were  toward  their  institutions  ?  In  leaving 
them  their  self-government,  is  it  conceivable  that  they 
required  the  rulers  of  the  city  to  speak  Latin?  We  do  not 
know  absolutely,  but  nothing  justifies  us  in  saying  yes. 
In  any  case,  the  governments  of  the  cities  were  entirely 
aristocratic,  and  aristocracies  do  not  require  to  be  forced 
to  adopt  the  language  of  the  conqueror. 

Latin,  then,  was  indispensable  to  the  fraction  of  the 
aristocracy  which  claimed  to  monopolize  senatorial  or 
equestrian  functions.  It  was  no  less  necessary  for  those 
who  restricted  their  ambitions  to  the  practice  of  municipal 
law.  The  emperor  Claudius  withdrew  the  right  from  a 
deputy  of  a  province  of  the  East  who  could  plead  only  in 
Greek.  Even  the  lower  classes  had  to  use  Latin  in  their 
law-court  quarrels  and  in  their  appeals  before  the  im¬ 
perial  treasury.  And  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  they  were 
obliged  to  make  use  of  it  in  their  dealings  with  Italian 
merchants. 

Latin  crept  into  use  by  the  most  varied  paths.  It  was 
spread  not  only  by  the  immigration  of  freemen,  but  also 
by  the  importation  of  slaves.  The  slaves  came  from  all 
parts  of  the  world,  and  if  they  were  to  understand  one  an¬ 
other  and  their  masters,  they  must  have  a  language  com¬ 
mon  to  all.  Old  soldiers,  going  back  to  private  life, 
brought  it  to  their  homes  and  taught  it  to  their  neighbors. 
The  Church,  in  the  third  century,  abandoned  Greek  and 
adopted  as  its  official  language  the  language  of  the  gov¬ 
ernment.  Henceforward  its  great  weight  was  thrown  into 
the  scale.  Finally,  the  school,  without  being  for  Rome  the 
brutal  instrument  which  it  has  become  for  modern  con¬ 
querors,  exercised  a  decisive  influence,  all  the  more  pow- 

6 


Victory  of  the  Latin  Language 

erful  because  it  embraced  the  whole  man.  It  did  not  limit 
itself  to  teaching  him  a  new  language,  but  created  in  him, 
so  to  speak,  a  new  spirit,  and  fundamentally  transformed 
his  sentiments  and  ideas.  It  was  the  school  which  really 
made  the  Gaul  a  Roman. 

We  know,  unfortunately,  very  little  about  the  elemen¬ 
tary  education.  We  can  only  judge,  from  various  indica¬ 
tions,  that  it  was  by  no  means  neglected.  The  total  num¬ 
ber  of  illiterates  cannot  have  been  very  great.  The 
humblest  inferior  officers  were  expected  to  read  the  Latin 
watchword  from  the  tablet  on  which  it  was  written. 
There  were  schools  for  the  sons  of  veterans.  An  inscrip¬ 
tion  has  been  discovered  at  Aljustrel,  in  Portugal,  which 
contains  the  regulations  for  the  working  of  a  mine,  and  it 
shows  that  schoolmasters  were  to  be  found  even  in  the 
village  which  had  sprung  up  about  the  mine.  These  ele¬ 
mentary  schools,  the  regimental  schools  perhaps  excepted, 
were  private.  It  had  taken  the  Romans  a  long  time  to  get 
the  idea  that  instruction  could  be  given  by  the  State,  and 
when  at  length  they  did  get  it,  they  appear  never  to  have 
extended  it  to  the  education  of  the  masses.  But  the  search 
for  knowledge  was  very  active  in  this  society,  and  the  in¬ 
itiative  of  private  individuals  was  sufficient. 

We  are  better  informed  as  to  the  establishments  of  a 
higher  grade  of  education,  for  the  use  of  the  upper  classes, 
and  we  find  here  some  slight  intervention  of  the  public 
authority. 

When  Agricola  was  called  to  govern  Britain,  in  78  a.d., 
he  was  very  zealous  in  introducing  Roman  customs.  He 
was  not  content  with  inviting  the  people  to  build  cities 
with  temples,  forums,  and  porticos.  He  saw  to  it  that  the 

7 


Medieval  Civilization 


children  of  the  nobles  were  instructed  in  Latin.  In  this 
he  merely  followed  the  policy  adopted  a  century  before 
in  Gaul.  There,  also,  and  to  a  greater  extent  than  else¬ 
where,  schools  had  been  multiplied  immediately  after  the 
conquest.  Strabo,  at  the  beginning  of  the  first  century, 
notes  the  fact  and  does  not  restrain  his  admiration.  It  is 
certain  that  these  schools  did  not  lack  the  encouragement 
of  the  Roman  officials.  But  though  the  State  favored,  and, 
if  need  be,  solicited,  the  initiative  of  the  cities,  it  did  not  in 
the  beginning  venture  to  supplant  it.  Vespasian  was  the 
first  to  think  of  paying  the  teachers  out  of  the  public 
funds.  Hadrian,  Antoninus,  and  Alexander  Severus  had 
the  same  thought.  It  is  rather  difficult  to  say  just  what 
measures  these  different  emperors  took.  It  appears,  from 
all  the  facts,  that  the  State  ordered  the  expenditures  but 
did  not  assume  them.  It  endowed  a  very  few  chairs  in 
some  famous  centers,  for  example  Rome  and  Athens,  but 
elsewhere  it  left  the  municipalities  to  bear  the  expense. 
And  what  at  first  was  only  a  benevolent,  even  if  not  an  ab¬ 
solutely  spontaneous,  expense  on  their  part,  became  obli¬ 
gatory.  As  this  occurred  precisely  at  the  time  when  their 
financial  embarrassments  began,  it  is  not  hard  to  under¬ 
stand  that  they  did  not  always  acquit  themselves  of  this 
duty  with  all  desirable  alacrity.  To  put  an  end  to  the 
abuse  caused  by  their  niggardliness,  Emperor  Gratian  in 
376  a.d.  promulgated  from  his  residence  at  Treves,  and 
transmitted  to  the  prefect  of  the  diocese  of  the  Gauls, 
an  edict  fixing  once  for  all  the  emoluments  which  each 
municipality  should  assure  to  its  teachers.  These  varied 
with  the  importance  of  the  city  and  the  grade  of  the 
teacher. 


8 


Victory  of  the  Latin  Language 

When  the  State  imposed  upon  the  curias  the  burden  of 
paying  the  salaries  of  the  teachers,  it  left  them,  quite  logi¬ 
cally,  the  right  of  choosing  them.  That  did  not,  of  course, 
prevent  its  interference,  even  in  cases  where  it  had  not 
founded  or  endowed  the  chairs.  The  cities,  far  from  being 
displeased  at  the  emperor’s  interference  in  their  affairs, 
were  proud  of  such  a  mark  of  interest.  Their  felicitations 
were  perhaps  less  warm  when  they  learned  the  largeness 
of  the  salary  which  the  emperor  sometimes  assigned  to 
the  teacher  he  sent  them.  Under  the  emperor  Julian  the 
respective  rights  of  the  State  and  the  curias  were  regu¬ 
lated  by  a  law,  in  accordance  with  which  the  curias  were 
to  continue  to  name  the  professors,  though  their  choice 
was  to  be  submitted  to  the  imperial  approbation.  It  was 
a  special  law,  meant  to  exclude  Christians  from  teaching. 
But  there  is  no  evidence  that  it  was  revoked  after  the 
death  of  its  author. 

Among  the  schools  which  flourished  in  Gaul  at  the 
opening  of  the  Christian  era,  those  of  Marseilles  and 
Autun  held  the  first  rank.  Marseilles  had  lost  its  political 
and  commercial  importance,  and  had  turned  its  activities 
into  another  channel.  It  had  always  been  one  of  the 
hearths  of  Grecian  culture  in  the  West,  and  more  and 
more  devoted  its  energies  to  education  when  other  ambi¬ 
tions  were  vain.  Like  Athens,  whose  example  it  imitated 
and  whose  renown  it  hoped  to  rival,  it  sought  consolation 
for  its  misfortunes  in  becoming  a  great  university  center. 
Varro  called  it  the  city  of  the  three  languages.  At  Mar¬ 
seilles  the  Gallic  students  and  youths  from  Italy  were 
educated  together.  The  great  Roman  families  willingly 
sent  their  sons  thither.  They  could  obtain  at  Marseilles 

9 


Medieval  Civilization 


the  same  instruction  as  in  a  Greek  country,  with  the  ad¬ 
vantages  of  nearness  to  home  and  of  an  atmosphere  re¬ 
puted  to  be  more  moral.  One  of  the  glories  of  Marseilles 
was  its  scientific  tradition.  There  is  no  evidence  that  it 
produced  astronomers  and  geographers,  as  in  the  time  of 
Pytheas,  but  its  physicians  were  illustrious  and  made  great 
fortunes.  One  of  them,  a  contemporary  of  Nero,  was  rich 
enough  to  rebuild,  at  his  own  expense,  the  city  walls, 
which  had  been  destroyed  by  the  siege  of  49  b.c. 

The  school  at  Autun  was  very  different.  It  was  a  real 
Gallic  school  and  was  highly  prized  by  the  youth  of  the 
land,  who  had  escaped  but  yesterday  from  the  discipline 
of  the  Druids.  So  great  was  the  attendance  about  21  a.d. 
that  a  rebel  leader,  a  Sacrovir,  desiring  to  secure  the  sup¬ 
port  or  at  least  the  neutrality  of  the  whole  Gallic  nobility, 
believed  that  he  had  attained  his  object  when  he  seized 
the  students  as  hostages.  The  Roman  government  had 
not  made  an  unwise  choice  in  selecting  Autun  as  the  seat 
of  a  great  school.  It  thus  rewarded  the  iEduans,  its  faith¬ 
ful  allies  of  old,  and  secured  very  generally  the  approba¬ 
tion  of  the  Gallic  people.  Lyons  would  not  have  served 
so  well.  It  was  exclusively  Roman,  and  the  young  Gauls 
would  have  felt  that  they  were  in  a  strange  land.  They 
were  at  home,  on  the  contrary,  in  this  fundamentally  Cel¬ 
tic  city,  Autun,  a  place  which  was,  at  the  same  time,  pro¬ 
foundly  devoted  to  Rome.  We  do  not  hear  anything  more 
about  the  school  of  Autun  until  the  second  half  of  the  third 
century.  At  that  time,  its  great  prosperity  was  ruined  by 
civil  war,  and  its  beautiful  buildings  fell  a  prey,  with  the 
rest  of  the  city,  to  the  flames  kindled  by  hostile  soldiers. 
It  partially  recovered,  however,  from  this  sad  blow,  and 

10 


Victory  of  the  Latin  Language 

the  Caesar,  Constantius  Chlorus  (293—306  a.d.),  gave  it  a 
striking  proof  of  his  favor  when  he  sent  the  rhetorician 
Eumenius  to  direct  it. 

Eumenius  was  one  of  the  great  personages  of  Gaul,  and 
the  most  illustrious  son  of  Autun.  He  was  not  all  Gallic, 
for  he  had  Greek  blood  in  his  veins.  His  family  came 
from  Athens,  which  his  grandfather  had  left  in  order  to 
teach  rhetoric  at  Rome.  Thence  he  had  passed  to  a  chair 
in  the  school  of  Autun,  attracted  by  its  renown  and  no 
doubt  by  the  advantages  which  it  assured  to  its  teachers. 
His  grandson  inherited  his  aptitudes  and  followed  for  a 
time  in  his  footsteps.  He  was  born  at  Autun,  and  lectured 
there,  in  his  turn,  with  striking  success.  It  was  this  suc¬ 
cess  which  changed  the  course  of  his  life.  For  Constan¬ 
tius  Chlorus  heard  of  his  talents  and  attached  him  to  his 
person,  making  him  his  magister  memorial.  This  was  the 
name  given  to  one  of  the  state  secretaries  whose  business 
it  was  to  draw  up  the  documents  which  were  issued  from 
the  imperial  chancery.  There  were  only  a  few  higher 
offices  in  the  administrative  hierarchy.  To  abandon  it 
and  return  to  his  professor’s  place  was  to  sink  in  the  social 
scale.  But  the  emperor  was  unwilling  that  it  should  be 
considered  a  disgrace.  Not  content  with  maintaining  his 
salary  at  its  existing  high  level,  he  doubled  it,  and  to  make 
his  object  more  clear  he  wrote  him  the  following  letter, 
which  he  invited  him  to  read  publicly  on  taking  possession 
of  his  new  post : 

“  Our  Gauls,  whose  sons  are  instructed  in  the  liberal 
arts  at  the  city  of  Autun,  and  the  young  men  themselves 
who  have  so  cheerfully  served  as  our  escort,  assuredly 


1 1 


Medieval  Civilization 

deserve  that  the  cultivation  of  their  natural  abilities  should 
be  looked  after  carefully.  And  what  better  could  be 
offered  them  than  those  riches  of  the  mind  which  are  the 
only  riches  fortune  can  neither  give  nor  take  away.  Ac¬ 
cordingly,  we  have  resolved  to  place  you  at  the  head  of 
this  school,  which  death  has  deprived  of  its  chief,  you 
whose  eloquence  and  high  probity  in  the  conduct  of  our 
affairs  we  have  learned  to  appreciate.  It  is  our  wish,  then, 
that  you  should,  without  losing  any  of  the  advantages  of 
your  rank,  resume  your  chair  of  rhetoric  in  the  aforesaid 
city,  which  we  desire,  as  you  know,  to  reestablish  in  its 
former  splendor.  There  you  will  mold  the  minds  of  the 
young  men  and  give  them  the  taste  for  a  better  life.  Do 
not  believe  that  these  functions  are  derogatory  to  the  hon¬ 
ors  with  which  you  have  been  invested.  An  honorable 
profession  increases,  rather  than  diminishes,  a  man’s 
renown.  In  conclusion,  it  is  our  will  that  you  receive  a 
salary  of  600,000  sesterces  ($30,000)  from  the  city 
treasury,  so  that  you  may  clearly  know  that  our  clemency 
treats  you  according  to  your  merits.  Farewell,  most  dear 
Eumenius.” 

Eumenius  was  generous  enough  to  consecrate  all  this 
income  to  the  restoration  of  the  buildings.  Unfortunately, 
these  great  efforts  were  only  half  successful.  The  hey¬ 
day  of  city  and  of  school  had  passed  away  forever. 

It  was  not  because  the  Gallic  schools  were  in  decay. 
They  were  never  more  alive  than  in  this  fourth  century, 
which  was  a  sort  of  resurrection  for  Gaul.  The  govern¬ 
ment  never  lavished  more  favors  upon  them,  and  if  the 
municipalities  in  parts  of  the  empire  were  found  wanting, 


12 


Victory  of  the  Latin  Language 

there  is  no  trace  of  their  negligence  in  Gaul.  The  current 
had  merely  been  diverted  into  other  channels. 

The  current  followed  the  displacement  of  political  life 
and  moved  toward  the  North.  As  early  as  the  time  of 
Marcus  Aurelius  (i6i— 180  a.d.),  Rheims  is  spoken  of  as 
another  Athens.  But  it  was  Treves,  above  all,  which  as¬ 
pired  to  become  a  great  educational  center.  The  Caesars 
installed  in  this  new  capital  had  the  highest  ambitions  for 
the  place.  They  endeavored  to  attract  thither  the  most 
celebrated  masters  by  offering  them  a  remuneration  one 
fifth  higher  than  their  colleagues  elsewhere  received. 
Treves,  nevertheless,  never  had,  from  the  intellectual 
point  of  view,  more  than  a  secondary  importance.  Life 
was  too  unsettled  upon  this  frontier,  and  German  bar¬ 
barism  was  too  near  and  too  menacing  for  the  students 
to  give  themselves  over,  unreservedly,  to  the  labors  of  the 
intellect.  They  found  a  more  favorable  center,  a  safer 
asylum,  at  the  other  extremity  of  Gaul. 

Aquitaine  was  advantageously  situated  at  this  time.  It 
had  had  its  part  in  the  calamities  of  the  preceding  century, 
but,  since  the  strengthening  of  the  empire,  it  had  enjoyed 
profound  peace.  Sounds  of  war  which  rang  across  Bel¬ 
gium  and  the  Lyons  country  echoed  only  feebly  here. 
Its  uninterrupted  leisure,  the  inviolate  riches  of  its  fields 
and  cities,  marked  it  out  as  the  last  refuge  in  the  Occident 
for  the  ancient  learning.  The  happy  genius  of  its  people 
did  the  rest.  The  reputation  of  its  rhetoricians  became 
universal.  It  supplied  them  to  Italy  and  to  the  East.  It 
introduced  them,  as  preceptors,  into  the  imperial  house¬ 
hold.  St.  Jerome  gives  them  a  place  in  his  Chronicle,  and 
Symmachus,  the  most  illustrious  representative  of  Latin 

13 


Medieval  Civilization 


eloquence  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  century,  tells  us  in 
pompous  phrases  all  that  he  owed  to  their  lessons. 

The  most  striking  thing  about  these  university  profes¬ 
sors  is  the  place  they  held  in  society.  They  were  generally 
rich,  and  had  not  always  inherited  their  wealth,  but  fre¬ 
quently  acquired  it  in  the  exercise  of  their  profession. 
Their  fixed  salaries  were  often  less  than  the  revenues  they 
derived  from  the  liberality  of  families,  and  especially  from 
the  registration  fees  of  their  students,  which  naturally 
increased  with  the  renown  of  the  teacher.  And  it  is  to 
be  remembered  that  they  were  free  from  all  the  taxes  and 
charges  which  at  that  time  weighed  so  heavily  upon  pri¬ 
vate  fortunes.  In  addition,  one  must  not  forget  the  honor 
which  attached  to  their  position  as  teachers.  As  members 
of  the  curia,  decurions  and  magistrates,  they  were  in  the 
first  rank  of  the  local  aristocracy.  Some,  as  we  have  seen, 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  emperor,  became  provincial 
governors  and  pretorian  prefects,  and  even  attained  the 
lofty  though  barren  honor  of  the  consulship. 

The  students  were  numerous.  They  had  their  organi¬ 
zations,  their  banners,  and  their  meetings  for  conviviality 
and  noise.  The  students  belonged  almost  exclusively  to 
the  nobility  or  the  middle  class,  although  the  emperor 
Alexander  Severus  had  conceived  the  idea  of  bursaries 
for  brilliant  but  poor  youths.  The  upper  classes  were  shut 
out  from  trade,  which  was  left  to  freedmen,  and  from  the 
army,  which  was  becoming  more  and  more  the  property 
of  the  barbarians.  Accordingly,  they  threw  themselves 
with  ardor  into  the  administrative  career,  the  only  one 
open  to  their  ambitions.  And  it  was  through  the  portal 
of  the  liberal  studies  that  the  civil  service  was  entered. 


14 


Victory  of  the  Latin  Language 

High  intellectual  culture  was  in  those  days  not  only  the 
indispensable  mark  of  a  well-born  man :  it  was  also  the 
best  ground  for  public  office  and  advancement.  An  advo¬ 
cate  of  the  fisc,  a  secretary  of  the  chancery,  or  a  pretorian 
prefect  had  to  be,  first  of  all,  a  man  of  letters.  If  the 
emperors  took  such  a  zealous  interest  in  the  prosperity  of 
the  schools,  if  they  claimed  the  right  to  control  rigorously 
the  studies  and  behavior  of  the  students,  their  reasons, 
it  is  plain,  were  not  purely  disinterested :  it  was  because 
they  saw  in  these  youths  their  future  civil  servants.  No 
society  ever  loved  and  honored  learning  more  than  this 
one.  But  it  is  open  to  the  reproach  of  having  pushed  the 
worship  of  learning  to  the  point  of  superstition. 

We  touch  here  the  weak  side  of  this  brilliant  and  much- 
esteemed  education.  It  has  a  double  claim  to  our  atten¬ 
tion  :  it  reveals,  in  several  ways,  the  weaknesses  of  this 
declining  civilization  ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  it  does  not 
completely  perish  with  the  society  which  it  helped  to  de¬ 
stroy,  but  passes  several  of  its  features  on  to  the  medieval 
schools,  through  which,  in  some  degree,  it  is  perpetuated 
in  the  schools  of  to-day. 

A  school  like  that  of  Autun,  for  instance,  was  not  a  uni¬ 
versity  in  our  sense  of  the  word.  It  taught  both  the  sec¬ 
ondary  and  the  higher  subjects,  i.e.,  it  embraced  grammar 
as  well  as  rhetoric.  It  will  be  remembered  that  this  is  still 
the  sacred  division  of  courses  in  the  French  colleges. 
Grammar  was  not  interpreted,  any  more  than  at  present, 
in  its  narrower  sense.  It  was  made  up  of  two  parts :  the 
art  of  speaking  correctly,  and  a  commentary  upon  the 
authors.  These  were  the  Greek  and  Latin  authors,  and 
the  students  began  with  the  Greek.  Homer  and  Me- 

15 


Medieval  Civilization 


nander  were  the  favorites.  The  young  Latins  did  not 
always  take  kindly  to  this  strange  tongue,  but  Greek  none 
the  less  held  its  place  of  honor.  It  represented  the  most 
delicate  and  elevated  side  of  this  glorious  civilization, 
which  was  already  menaced  and  impaired  by  Christianity. 
The  only  non-Gallic  teachers  in  Gaul  of  whom  we  know 
were  of  Greek  origin.  Among  the  Latin  authors  most 
enjoyed  was,  first  of  all,  Vergil,  the  most  popular  of  poets, 
already  almost  the  god  he  was  to  become  several  centuries 
later.  After  him,  with  a  long  interval  between,  came  Hor¬ 
ace  and  Terence.  The  Latin  prose  writers  were  less  ap¬ 
preciated,  and  the  absence  of  their  strong  food  had  its 
consequences.  But  the  greatest  evil  was  the  lack  of  posi¬ 
tive  knowledge,  systematically  taught.  Undoubtedly  the 
commentary  upon  the  authors  was  not  purely  verbal,  and 
involved  a  variety  of  explanations  which  touched  geogra¬ 
phy,  history,  philosophy,  and  even  science.  But  these 
came  in  only  as  the  texts  gave  occasion  for  the  commen¬ 
tary;  they  were  not  presented  as  separate  wholes,  and 
they  did  not  lead  to  investigation.  It  is  this  sterile  exe¬ 
gesis,  this  devotion  to  the  book  and  to  the  letter,  which 
continued  to  weigh  upon  the  world  even  in  the  age  of 
scholasticism. 

The  same  objections  apply  to  the  studies  of  the  higher 
grade.  The  narrowness  of  the  program  of  study  is  as¬ 
tounding.  There  was  no  real  study  of  the  sciences ;  men 
were  swept  away  from  it  by  the  progress  of  mysticism, 
and,  moreover,  the  Romans  never  had  esteemed  the 
sciences  save  for  their  practical  applications.  There  is  the 
same  absence  of  philosophy ;  the  Romans  had  always  dis¬ 
trusted  it  as  vain  babbling,  and  had  left  the  monopoly  of 

16 


Victory  of  the  Latin  Language 

it  to  the  school  of  Athens.  Even  law,  the  peculiar  crea¬ 
tion  and  the  most  durable  legacy  of  Rome  to  the  world, 
had  renowned  masters  only  in  Rome,  Constantinople,  and 
Beyrout.  Rhetoric  alone  remained.  A  text  to  be  com¬ 
mented  upon  and  a  theme  to  be  developed — that  was  the 
whole  of  the  higher  education.  Eloquence,  the  virile  art 
of  the  society  of  antiquity,  had  become  a  frivolous  and 
empty  diversion.  It  had  occupied  such  an  important  place 
among  the  ancients  that  the  people  of  this  age  did  not 
think  of  discarding  it.  But  they  reduced  it  to  formal,  con¬ 
ventional  exercises,  where  the  chief  thing  was  to  hide 
under  elegance  of  expression  the  dearth  of  ideas.  This 
discipline,  which  we  ourselves  have  not  entirely  given  up, 
had  its  value.  It  could  supple  and  refine  the  intellect.  But 
practised  for  itself,  as  an  end,  not  as  a  means,  and  isolated 
from  all  solid  study,  it  was  sterile  and  dangerous.  It 
accustomed  the  youth  to  value  words  above  things,  to  em¬ 
phasize  form  rather  than  content ;  it  pauperized,  it  ener¬ 
vated  the  intellect.  When  a  student  examines  its  fruits  in 
the  most  admired  works  of  this  time,  the  discourses  of 
Himerius,  the  panegyrics  of  Eumenius,  and  the  most  of 
the  poems  of  Ausonius,  he  finds  them  almost  entirely  lack¬ 
ing  in  substance  and  in  thought,  and  he  will  be  almost 
compelled  to  attribute  to  this  teaching  a  large  share  in  the 
general  decay  and  ruin  of  the  empire. 


17 


The  Landed  Aristocracy  and  the 
Beginnings  of  Serfdom 

Adapted  from  G.  Bloch,  in  Lavisse:  Histoire  de  France, 

Vol.  I,  Part  ii,  1900,  pp.  436-145. 

IN  the  fourth  century  most  of  the  land  in  the  Roman 
Empire  was  in  the  possession  of  the  senatorial  no¬ 
bility.  This  nobility  had  its  rise  from  the  practice  of  con¬ 
ferring  the  office  of  senator  without  requiring  the  recipi¬ 
ents  of  the  honor  to  take  their  seats  in  the  senate,  or  even 
to  reside  at  Rome.  Many  of  them  lived  in  the  provinces, 
and  there  were  not  a  few  who  had  never  been  away  from 
home.  They  were  senators,  nevertheless,  in  the  full  en¬ 
joyment  of  the  titles  and  privileges  of  their  high  station, 
and  with  the  right  of  transmitting  them  to  their  children. 
Appointment  to  certain  governmental  posts  or  the  mere 
will  of  the  emperor  would  also  confer  it.  Hence  this  no¬ 
bility  was  more  than  a  mere  hereditary  caste ;  it  was  an 
order  to  which  all  ambitious  men  might  aspire. 

The  strength  of  this  aristocracy,  which,  because  of  its 
advantages,  swallowed  up  the  lesser  nobility,  lay  in  its 
possession  of  the  land.  Landed  property  was  in  this  era 
the  chief  source  of  public  wealth  and  the  most  honorable 
sort  of  riches.  It  was,  therefore,  the  source  of  all  con¬ 
sideration  and  power.  We  shall  examine  the  methods  by 

18 


Aristocracy  and  Serfdom 

which  this  nobility  got  possession  of  the  soil  and  drew 
wealth  from  it,  and  in  so  doing  we  shall  discover  the 
causes  of  its  power  and  gain  an  insight  into  the  condition 
of  the  rural  population. 

The  peculiarity  of  the  Roman  organization  of  landed 
property  was  its  conception  of  the  fundus  or  domain. 
This  word  had  several  synonyms :  ager,  meaning  field, 
villa,  the  home  of  a  master,  and  cortis,  the  court  or  yard  of 
a  farm.  Fundus  was,  however,  the  strict  legal  term. 
The  Romans  carried  the  idea  of  the  fundus  with  them  into 
the  provinces.  The  distinctive  attribute  of  the  fundus  was 
its  indestructible  unity.  It  almost  always  bore  the  name, 
from  generation  to  generation,  of  the  man  who  had  owned 
it  in  the  far-off  time  when  it  had  first  been  placed  upon 
the  tax-register.  It  might  be  broken  up  by  sale  or  inheri¬ 
tance,  but  in  the  eyes  of  the  law  it  remained  undivided, 
and  the  coowners  merely  possessed  parts  of  it.  If  one 
man  acquired  several  contiguous  fundi,  each  retained  its 
individuality  and  its  name.  The  explanation  of  this  pe¬ 
culiarity  is  undoubtedly  the  simplification  of  the  work  of 
taxation  which  resulted. 

We  must  avoid  confusing  the  fundus  with  a  modern 
village.  The  Romans  had  no  village  in  our  sense  of  the 
word.  The  nearest  approach  to  it  was  their  vicus,  a  group 
of  dwellings.  Most  European  villages  have  a  council  or 
government  of  some  sort  of  their  own ;  the  vicus  had 
nothing  of  the  kind.  The  smallest  area  which  had,  under 
the  Romans,  a  right  to  make  municipal  regulations  of  its 
own  was  the  civitas,  which  was  composed  of  a  town  por¬ 
tion  and  a  country  portion  dependent  upon  the  former. 
The  vicus,  then,  was  not  a  division  of  the  soil.  All  the 


19 


Medieval  Civilization 


soil  was  divided  as  follows :  first  the  civitas,  then  the 
pagus,  which  was  a  subdivision  of  the  civitas,  and,  finally, 
the  fundus,  which  was  a  subdivision  of  the  pagus.  These 
were  the  only  divisions  known  to  the  tax-officials.  It 
should  be  clear  that  a  fundus  could  not  be  part  of  a  incus, 
though  there  might  be  several  vici  on  one  fundus. 

These  vici  were  inhabited  by  tenants  more  or  less  un¬ 
free.  There  was  another  sort  of  vicus,  dwelt  in  by  free¬ 
men,  but  it  was  unusual,  and  toward  the  end  of  the  em¬ 
pire  it  sank  into  insignificance  before  the  onward  march  of 
the  large  estate.  The  growing  importance  of  the  large 
estate  did  not,  of  course,  affect  the  permanence  of  the 
fundi.  The  joining  of  one  fundus  to  another  did  not  dis¬ 
turb  its  individuality,  and,  furthermore,  the  large  estate 
was  not  necessarily  composed  of  contiguous  fundi.  In 
Gaul  the  large  estate  of  many  a  rich  proprietor  was  scat¬ 
tered  over  a  wide  area,  although  there  was  a  constant  ten¬ 
dency  to  increase  the  size  of  the  adjacent  portions. 

The  struggle  between  the  proprietors  of  large  and  of 
small  domains  has  always  been  an  unequal  one.  It  was 
still  more  unequal  in  the  period  we  are  discussing.  A 
large  domain  was  more  than  so  many  acres  of  meadow, 
vineyard,  forest,  and  cultivated  land.  It  was  a  little  world 
sufficient  to  itself  and  provided  with  agricultural  toilers 
and  artisans  of  every  sort.  How  could  a  small  proprietor 
compete  with  such  an  accumulation  of  resources  ?  His 
expenses  were  relatively  greater  and  his  profits  smaller. 
If  his  small  capital  gave  out  he  could  not  borrow,  for 
there  was  little  money  in  circulation,  and  the  rate  of  in¬ 
terest  was  exceedingly  high.  If  political  catastrophes  pre¬ 
vented  the  cultivation  of  the  soil  and  caused  famine,  he 


20 


Aristocracy  and  Serfdom 

was  ruined.  That  is  what  happened  in  the  second  half  of 
the  third  century.  And  the  vices  of  the  system  of  taxa¬ 
tion  heaped  to  the  full  his  cup  of  woe.  We  shall  see  below 
how  the  land-taxes  fell  with  all  their  crushing  weight  on 
those  least  able  to  bear  them.  The  small  proprietor  was 
compelled  to  abandon  the  struggle. 

The  enslavement  of  the  rural  population  took  place  in  a 
variety  of  ways. 

One  of  the  most  usual  was  that  of  patronage.  This  was 
not  a  novelty.  The  Romans  had  always  been  familiar  with 
it,  and  the  Gauls  had  practised  it  before  the  Roman  con¬ 
quest.  It  did  not  involve  any  inconvenient  personal  sub¬ 
jection  so  long  as  the  government  of  the  State  remained 
strong.  But  it  became  dangerous  under  the  weak  sway 
of  the  later  Roman  Empire.  The  empire  at  this  time  had 
little  hold  upon  the  senatorial  aristocracy,  which  was  pow¬ 
erful  through  its  riches,  its  local  attachments,  and  its  in¬ 
dependence,  which  the  State  itself  had  fostered.  Its 
members  were  subject  to  the  jurisdiction  of  the  provincial 
governor  in  civil  matters,  but  in  criminal  matters  they  had 
been  exempted  from  responsibility  to  any  one  save  the 
emperor  or  his  immediate  representative,  the  pretorian 
prefect,  and  these  were  too  distant  to  be  any  real  check. 
This  practical  immunity  from  external  control  explains 
adequately  the  lawlessness  of  the  nobility.  Their  com¬ 
monest  breach  of  justice  and  the  laws  was  perhaps  the 
seizure  of  land,  by  fraud  or  force.  The  emperors  in  vain 
directed  their  functionaries  to  oppose  such  lawlessness, 
for  they  had,  as  we  have  just  seen,  rendered  them  power¬ 
less  in  advance.  Is  it  surprising,  then,  if  the  weak  land¬ 
holders  more  and  more  fell  into  the  habit  of  seeking  from 


21 


Medieval  Civilization 


the  strong  that  support  which  they  could  not  get  from 
the  law?  Such  an  one  would  apply  to  a  powerful  man, 
would  commend  himself  to  him,  to  escape  the  land-tax, 
gain  a  lawsuit,  secure  protection  against  an  injustice,  or 
obtain  the  means  of  perpetrating  one.  Patronage,  or  com¬ 
mendation,  accordingly,  spread  like  a  huge  net  over  the 
whole  social  body.  The  State,  moreover,  saw  the  peril. 
It  declared  all  such  agreements  void,  and  threatened  with 
severe  punishments  those  who  made  them.  It  was  use¬ 
less.  Then  the  State  thought  that  it  could  compete  with 
these  private  agreements  by  offering  similar  public  ones. 
It  offered  to  become  a  patron,  against  itself,  in  the  person 
of  the  defensor  of  the  city.  It  failed  again.  The  mere 
idea  of  such  a  system  was  virtual  abdication. 

This  commendation  was  generally  completed  by  the 
precarium,  which  was  also  a  very  ancient  usage.  This 
was  the  name  given  to  a  grant  of  land  which  was  made 
to  an  individual,  free  of  cost,  in  response  to  his  request, 
or  prayer.  Hence  the  name  precarium.  The  precarium 
did  not  involve  any  abandonment  of  ownership  by  the 
giver.  It  was  revocable  “  at  will,”  whenever  he  wished, 
in  accordance  with  the  legal  doctrine  that  no  one  could  be 
bound  by  his  own  generosity.  Moreover,  the  grant  was  of 
necessity  a  gratuitous  one,  for  any  obligation  imposed 
upon  the  receiver  would  have  violated  the  essential  nature 
of  the  precarium  and  made  of  it  a  species  of  legal  contract. 
That  was  the  theory.  In  practice,  it  is  fairly  certain  that 
the  receiver  of  a  precarium  was  not  satisfied  to  be  a  ten¬ 
ant  at  will,  and  that  the  landowner  obtained  some  com¬ 
pensation.  There  had  to  be  something  to  make  the  pre¬ 
carium  advantageous  to  both  parties,  and,  as  a  matter  of 


22 


Aristocracy  and  Serfdom 

fact,  the  proprietor  did  impose  a  rent  upon  his  precarious 
tenant.  The  threat  of  eviction  would,  without  any  legal 
sanction,  insure  the  payment  of  it.  As  long  as  the  tenant 
paid  his  rent,  he  could  be  morally  certain  of  keeping  the 
use  of  the  land  and  transmitting  it  to  his  children.  The 
precarium,  then,  was  nothing  but  a  disguised  method  of 
renting  land,  in  which  the  proprietor  was  not  legally  bound 
and  the  tenant-farmer  had  to  rely  upon  usage  for  his 
possession  and  possessory  rights. 

The  transformation  of  the  small  proprietor  into  a  ten¬ 
ant  of  this  sort  might  result  from  a  loan.  The  lender 
would  prefer  a  more  profitable  kind  of  security  than  the 
ordinary  mortgage.  The  borrower  accordingly  sold  him 
his  land  for  the  amount  of  the  loan,  it  being  understood 
that  he  could  buy  it  back  by  repaying  the  loan  with  in¬ 
terest.  Until  repayment  he  enjoyed  the  use  of  the  land 
under  a  precarious  title.  If  he  never  made  repayment, 
which  was  generally  the  case,  he  remained  a  precarious 
tenant  all  his  life  long,  and  at  his  death  his  children  could, 
with  the  consent  of  the  creditor,  take  his  place.  Another 
method  of  constituting  a  precarium,  apparently  the  most 
usual  of  all,  was  the  extension  of  the  commendation  from 
the  man  to  his  land.  After  all,  the  protection  of  the  man, 
unless  his  property  were  protected,  would  not  suffice.  But 
this  protection,  too,  must  be  paid  for.  The  small  pro¬ 
prietor  accordingly  gave  his  land  to  the  large  one  by  a 
fictitious  sale,  which  the  law  in  vain  condemned,  and  be¬ 
came  the  precarious  tenant  of  his  protector.  After  all,  it 
was  better  to  have  a  well-defended  precarium  than  an 
estate  liable  to  be  pillaged  by  the  first  robber. 

Commendation  combined  with  the  frecarium  was  one 


23 


Medieval  Civilization 


of  the  most  potent  means  of  developing  the  large  estate. 
But  it  was  more  than  that.  It  contained  in  the  germ  the 
two  institutions  which  are  an  epitome,  or  almost  an  epit¬ 
ome,  of  feudalism :  vassalage  and  the  fief.  Another  fac¬ 
tor  in  this  society  paved  the  way  for  a  new  era :  the  ad¬ 
vent  of  servitude  of  the  glebe,  which  was  not  feudal  but 
was  the  foundation  upon  which  the  whole  feudal  edifice 
rested. 

A  large  estate  was  made  up  of  two  parts,  the  one  cul¬ 
tivated  directly  by  the  proprietor,  the  other  indirectly. 
The  latter  grew  more  and  more  at  the  expense  of  the 
former.  The  part  directly  exploited  was  not  cultivated 
by  free  day-laborers, — they  do  not  seem  to  have  existed, — 
but  by  slaves  who  lived  in  common  and  worked  in  gangs 
under  overseers  who  were  also  slaves.  This  system  had 
its  disadvantages.  The  slaves  got  no  personal  profit  from 
their  toil,  and  were  consequently  poor  workers.  In  order 
to  interest  them  in  their  work  the  proprietors  adopted  the 
idea  of  picking  out  the  best  workers  and  renting  them 
bits  of  land  to  cultivate  on  their  own  account.  These  were 
the  hut-slaves,  so  called  because  they  had  their  own  sepa¬ 
rate  huts  for  homes.  They  enjoyed  special  advantages, 
but  they  still  remained  slaves  and  all  their  possessions  be¬ 
longed  to  their  master.  At  the  end  of  the  third  century, 
however,  their  situation  grew  more  stable,  and  was  there¬ 
fore  improved,  when  the  government  conceived  the  plan 
of  inscribing  them  on  the  tax-register  as  a  separate  class, 
in  order  to  secure  an  increase  of  the  land-tax.  These  hut- 
slaves,  who  were  also  called,  after  this  enrolment,  enrolled 
slaves  ( ascripti ),  were  considered,  for  tax  purposes,  to 
belong  to  the  soil,  of  which  they  determined  the  value. 

24 


Aristocracy  and  Serfdom 

The  law,  accordingly,  forbade  a  proprietor  to  sell  the  land 
without  them.  As  to  selling  them  and  keeping  the  land, 
there  was  no  reason  for  that  so  long  as  they  kept  it  pro¬ 
ductive. 

The  slaves  of  this  class,  the  enrolled  slaves,  were,  how¬ 
ever,  in  a  decided  minority  even  at  the  close  of  the  empire. 
But  the  freedmen,  who  were  very  numerous,  as  one  can 
see  from  the  place  they  occupied  in  the  recruiting  of  the 
army,  were  in  a  similar  position.  Enfranchisement  gave 
liberty,  but  not  necessarily  independence.  It  was  the  right 
of  the  patron,  as  the  liberator  was  called,  to  fix  the  nature 
and  extent  of  the  duties  owed  to  him  by  his  freedmen  by 
a  definite  convention,  which  was  recognized  and  sanctioned 
by  the  laws.  These  duties  generally  consisted  in  material 
services,  and  more  precisely  in  the  master’s  right  to  a 
prior  share  in  the  earnings  of  the  freedman.  If  the 
freedman  had  been  an  agricultural  slave,  it  was  the  custom 
to  establish  him  on  a  bit  of  land  as  a  tenant.  The  condi¬ 
tion  of  a  freedman  tenant  was  no  doubt  superior  to  that  of 
a  slave  tenant.  He  had  rights  and  the  slave  had  none,  for 
the  prohibition  against  selling  the  land  without  the  slave 
tenant  was  not  made  in  his  interests  but  in  the  interests 
of  the  land,  or  rather  of  the  imperial  treasury.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  condition  of  the  freedman  tenant  was 
much  inferior  to  that  of  the  free  tenant.  He  could  not, 
like  the  latter,  free  himself  from  the  services  he  owed  his 
patron  or  from  other  restrictions,  which  varied  according 
to  the  quality  of  his  enfranchisement.  The  so-called 
Latin  or  Junianus  freedman  could  acquire  property  out¬ 
side  of  the  plot  assigned  to  him,  but  all  such  acquisitions 
went,  after  his  death,  to  his  patron.  The  freedman  who 

25 


Medieval  Civilization 


was  given  citizenship  could  transmit  his  acquisitions  to 
his  children,  but  his  patron  had  a  right  to  the  share  of  a 
child,  and  if  there  were  no  children,  he  took  all.  This,  of 
course,  is  virtually  the  same  as  the  mortmain  of  the  feudal 
era.  So  much  for  the  part  of  the  large  estate  which  was 
directly  cultivated  by  the  proprietor. 

The  part  which  was  cultivated  by  the  proprietor  indi¬ 
rectly  was  intrusted  by  him  to  farmers  of  free  birth.  But 
while  the  slaves  rose,  little  by  little,  to  a  condition  in  cer¬ 
tain  respects  like  that  of  the  farmers,  the  farmers  met 
them,  so  to  speak,  half-way  down,  by  their  transformation 
into  colons.  The  names  remain  the  same,  but  their  mean¬ 
ings  change.  The  serf  of  the  Middle  Ages  is  very  differ¬ 
ent  from  the  Roman  slave,  but  he  is  only  this  slave  in 
a  new  situation,  and  the  name  of  both  is  always  the  same — 
servus.  The  man  that  we  call  a  colon  bears  the  same 
name  as  the  free  farmer  he  was  originally,  colonus.  The 
problem  is  to  find  out  how  this  free  farmer  became  a  colon, 
how  his  condition  changed  while  his  name  remained  un¬ 
altered.  First  of  all,  however,  we  must  determine  what 
this  condition  was. 

The  colon  was  not  a  slave.  He  was  a  freeman,  of  free 
birth.  He  had  civil  rights,  of  which  the  slave  was  com¬ 
pletely  destitute  and  of  which  the  freedman  possessed  only 
a  part.  He  could  marry;  he  could  found  a  family.  He 
inherited  property  from  his  father  and  transmitted  it 
freely  to  his  children.  True,  he  was  not  the  proprietor  of 
the  land  he  cultivated  as  tenant,  but  he  might  have  other 
lands  in  full  ownership.  He  could  sue  his  master,  while  a 
freedman  could  not  bring  suit  against  his  patron  at  all. 
He  was  bound,  chained,  only  by  the  land  he  held  as  tenant. 

26 


Aristocracy  and  Serfdom 

He  could  not  free  himself  from  it.  Neither  could  his  chil¬ 
dren.  His  condition  was  not  one  of  servitude  in  the  strict 
sense  of  the  word,  for  servitude  is  the  condition  of  a  per¬ 
son  and  his  person  was  free.  He  was  bound,  nevertheless, 
to  the  soil  by  the  bond  of  a  colon,  the  nexus  coloniarius. 
He  did  not  have  a  master,  but  his  land  did ;  his  land  alone 
had  a  slave,  and  he  was  the  slave.  Hence  the  restrictions 
upon  his  liberty.  Not  only  was  he  riveted  to  this  land  for¬ 
ever,  he  and  his,  but  he  could  not  leave  it  for  even  one 
day,  and  if  he  married  he  had  to  choose  a  woman  from  his 
master’s  estate  and  from  his  own  class — otherwise  the 
woman,  and  any  children  she  might  have,  would  be  lost 
to  the  master  of  the  estate  from  which  she  came.  Here 
again  we  see  a  characteristic  of  the  later  feudalism,  the 
restriction  on  formariage. 

The  bond  which  attached  the  colon  to  the  land  did  not, 
however,  impose  duties  on  the  colon  alone.  The  pro¬ 
prietor  as  well  had  strict  duties  to  perform.  He  could 
neither  send  away  his  colons  nor  sell  the  estate  without 
them.  In  case  of  a  sale,  the  new  proprietor  could  not  in¬ 
stall  new  colons  to  the  prejudice  of  the  old. 

There  were  general  causes  which  produced  this  institu¬ 
tion  of  the  colonate  throughout  the  empire. 

The  lot  of  the  farmers  was  a  difficult  one  from  the 
period  of  the  Antonines  on.  The  documents  of  this  time 
are  unanimous  in  representing  their  affairs  as  in  a  very 
bad  condition,  and  as  keeping  them  continually  behind 
with  their  rent.  Their  situation  could  only  grow  worse 
as  time  went  on.  The  proprietor  could,  to  be  sure,  seize 
their  goods,  and  finally  evict  those  who  did  not  pay.  But 
what  good  would  that  do?  The  seizure  of  the  farmer’s 

27 


Medieval  Civilization 


chattels  would  only  have  completed  his  ruin,  and  another 
put  in  his  place  would  not  have  been  more  fortunate.  It 
was  more  profitable  not  to  seize  or  evict,  but  to  take  ad¬ 
vantage  of  the  embarrassment  of  the  farmer  and  modify, 
to  his  detriment,  the  conditions  of  his  holding.  According 
to  the  Roman  law,  a  farmer  was  obliged  to  pay  a  money 
rent  fixed  in  advance.  But  farming  on  shares,  although 
not  recognized  by  the  law,  was  a  very  common  practice. 
If  the  parties  abandoned  the  rent  system  for  the  share 
system,  the  change  would  be  to  the  advantage  of  the  pro¬ 
prietor  alone.  For  the  man  who  cultivated  on  shares  had 
no  rights  the  law  would  enforce,  and  the  proprietor  to 
whom  he  was  indebted  could  exercise  greater  pressure 
upon  him  than  before,  by  the  threat  of  instant  expulsion. 
In  this  way,  there  arose  at  an  early  period  a  whole  class 
of  tenants  enslaved  to  their  holdings. 

The  colonate  arose  in  other  ways  also.  Laborers  in 
search  of  work  would  be  installed  upon  uncleared  lands. 
It  was  not  necessary  to  pledge  them  to  payment.  They 
offered  to  the  proprietor  what  they  had  to  give — day-labor 
for  the  present  and  part  of  the  crops  for  the  future,  when 
there  should  be  crops.  Meanwhile  they  remained  upon 
the  land  of  their  choice,  and  when  by  their  labors  they  had 
increased  its  value  the  proprietor  no  more  thought  of 
sending  them  away  than  they  thought  of  leaving  it.  They 
were  voluntary  colons,  and  they  did  not  differ,  essentially, 
from  those  who  had  become  colons  from  necessity. 

A  third  class  of  colons  was  made  up  of  the  barbarians 
who  were  forcibly  transplanted,  or  admitted,  upon  their 
request,  within  the  empire.  From  these  vigorous  races, 
Rome  demanded  cultivators  as  well  as  soldiers.  They 

28 


Aristocracy  and  Serfdom 

were  established  upon  the  State  domains  or  parceled  out 
among  individual  proprietors.  This  sort  of  thing  was 
common  in  Gaul  at  the  end  of  the  third  century  upon  the 
territories  devastated  and  depopulated  by  invasions. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  it  was  this  latter  sort  of  colonate 
which  gave  rise  to  the  first  legislative  recognition  of  the 
practice.  Hitherto,  the  colonate  had  been  a  private  custom. 
But  the  law  could  not  continue  to  ignore  it  after  it  had 
become  a  public  institution.  And  the  financial  reform, 
which  had,  as  we  have  seen,  caused  the  fixing  of  the 
tenure  of  the  slave,  now  affected,  in  a  similar  way,  the  lot 
of  the  colon.  His  name  was  inscribed  upon  the  tax- 
register,  and  the  same  fiscal  cause  which  attached  him  to 
the  soil  made  it  impossible  for  the  proprietor  to  evict  him. 

The  difference  between  the  lot  of  the  colon  and  that  of 
the  slave  was,  after  all,  chiefly  theoretical.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  colon  had  a  master  because  his  land  had  one, 
and  because  he  was  enslaved  to  this  land.  This  is  so  true 
that  the  law  which  distinguished  him  from  the  slave  more 
often  distinguished  him  from  the  freeman,  and  as  time 
went  on  he  more  and  more  came  to  differ  from  the  free¬ 
man  and  resemble  the  slave.  In  fact,  the  precarious  tenant 
himself  was  not  a  freeman  in  the  full  sense  of  the  word. 

The  development  of  the  large  estate  through  commen¬ 
dation  and  the  precarium,  together  with  the  development 
of  serfdom  of  the  glebe  through  the  assimilation  of  the 
condition  of  the  colon,  and  to  a  certain  extent  of  the  pre¬ 
carious  tenant  also,  to  that  of  the  slave,  were  the  means  by 
which  Roman  society  was  transformed.  Through  them, 
there  grew  in  strength,  upon  the  ruins  of  the  State,  the 
landed  aristocracy,  which,  with  the  exception  of  the 

29 


Medieval  Civilization 

Church,  was  the  only  institution  which  remained  stand¬ 
ing  after  the  fall  of  the  empire.  Gradually,  from  this  on, 
the  senatorial  nobility  usurped  sovereign  powers.  The 
large  estate  more  and  more  became  an  organism  distinct 
from,  but  analogous  to,  the  civitas,  and  independent,  if 
need  be,  of  the  State.  The  proprietor  acted  as  magistrate 
for  his  tenants.  He  represented  the  State  on  his  domain, 
and  was  able  either  to  oppose  or  to  substitute  himself 
for  it.  The  State  determined  the  amount  of  his  taxation ; 
he  levied  it  on  his  tenants  and  turned  over  the  proceeds 
— provided  he  consented  to  turn  them  over  and  did  not 
begin  by  driving  off  the  tax-gatherer.  The  State  again 
determined  how  many  soldiers  he  had  to  furnish  to  the 
army;  he  picked  the  men  and  sent  them  to  the  muster. 
He  handed  over  to  the  public  authorities  the  wrong-doers 
who  were  pointed  out  to  him,  and  it  was  not  until  he  re¬ 
fused  to  deliver  them  up  that  the  authorities  ventured  to 
send  soldiers  after  them.  He  had  a  right  of  police  and 
jurisdiction  over  his  “  men,”  as  they  were  already  termed 
in  Roman  law,  over  his  freedmen  and  colons,  as  well  as 
his  slaves.  He  could  beat  them  with  rods,  like  slaves. 
The  colon  and  the  freedman  might,  it  is  true,  under  some 
circumstances,  bring  him  before  the  magistrate,  but  they 
were  afraid  to  do  it.  The  precarious  tenant,  who  had 
given  himself  up  wholly  to  his  patron,  could  not,  of 
course,  attempt  to  do  anything  of  the  kind.  All  that  the 
proprietor  lacked,  at  this  time,  was  military  command, 
and,  later  on,  when  need  arose  he  assumed  that.  Ecdi- 
cius,  who  is  said  to  have  fed  four  thousand  poor  men 
during  a  famine,  raised  at  his  own  expense  a  troop  of 
horsemen  to  repulse  a  Visigothic  incursion. 

30 


Aristocracy  and  Serfdom 

The  nobles  resided  almost  exclusively  upon  their  es¬ 
tates.  It  had  not  always  been  so.  True,  they  had  never 
completely  abandoned  the  rural  life  they  had  led  before 
the  Roman  conquest,  although  they  had  been  beguiled  by 
the  attractions  of  the  urban  civilization  of  the  Romans. 
But  since  the  end  of  the  third  century  the  cities  had  un¬ 
dergone  great  changes.  Behind  their  somber  walls,  in  a 
restricted  space,  with  their  narrow,  cumbered  streets,  their 
huddled  and  stuffy  dwellings,  and  their  public  buildings 
reduced  to  petty  proportions,  they  had  lost  all  their 
charms.  Under  such  circumstances,  it  would  be  a  matter 
for  surprise  if  the  nobility  had  not  abandoned  the  city  for 
the  country,  their  first  love.  Henceforth  they  went  to 
the  city  only  for  infrequent  and  short  visits,  on  the  occa¬ 
sion  of  religious  festivals,  or  public  ceremonies.  The  re¬ 
mainder  of  their  time  was  spent  in  princely  fashion  in  the 
country. 

The  writings  of  the  time  give  us  a  very  good  idea  of 
their  residences  and  of  their  life.  On  reaching  the  es¬ 
tate,  one  would  have  to  pass  through  the  villages  of  the 
serfs  and  the  colons  before  coming  to  the  villa  proper,  to 
the  lord’s  residence,  to  the  prcctorium,  as  it  was  now  called. 
This  name  is  significant,  for  it  always  suggested  to  the 
Romans  the  idea  of  authority  and  command.  The  villa 
was  composed  of  two  distinct  parts,  the  urban  and  the 
rural.  The  rural  contained  all  the  things  needful  for  cul¬ 
tivating  the  soil,  the  buildings  for  housing,  feeding,  and 
for  imprisoning,  if  necessary,  the  slaves,  the  stables,  barns, 
granaries,  oil-  and  wine-cellars,  the  mill,  bake-house,  wine¬ 
presses,  workshops,  and  smithy.  All  these  were  grouped 
around  a  large  courtyard,  the  curtis  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

3i 


Medieval  Civilization 

The  urban  part  of  the  villa,  located  quite  close  at  hand, 
was  the  dwelling  which  the  master  preserved  for  his  per¬ 
sonal  use.  It  was  a  large,  roomy  residence,  completely 
furnished  and  richly  decorated,  a  real  palace  provided  with 
all  the  refinements  of  comfort  and  luxury— with  baths, 
porticos,  inclosed  promenades,  spacious  dining-rooms, 
special  winter  and  summer  apartments,  picture-galleries, 
libraries,  and  gardens  formally  laid  out  and  beautified  with 
statues  and  artificial  lakes.  These  sumptuous  residences 
were  to  be  found  by  the  hundred  in  the  empire,  and  nu¬ 
merous  ruins  enable  us  to  reproduce  their  form. 

A  noble  had  many  ways  of  spending  his  time.  To  say 
nothing  of  the  public  duties,  which  he  could  not  escape, 
the  administration  of  his  domains  and  the  cares  of  super¬ 
intendence  consumed  a  good  portion  of  his  time,  although 
the  pleasures  of  chateau  life  still  held  a  very  prominent 
place.  The  nobles  paid  visits  to  one  another,  they  rode 
horseback,  they  played  dice  and  tennis,  and,  above  all, 
they  hunted.  The  Gauls,  for  example,  were  ardent  hunt¬ 
ers,  and  the  well-stocked  forests  of  their  country  gave 
them  every  opportunity  to  indulge  their  passion  for  the 
chase.  Hunting  scenes  are  a  favorite  subject  in  the  mo¬ 
saics  with  which  they  ornamented  their  apartments.  They 
had  packs  of  dogs  with  carefully  kept  pedigrees;  they 
chased  the  stag,  the  wild  boar,  the  wolf,  and  the  aurochs ; 
they  used  the  crossbow  and  loosed  the  falcon  like  twelfth- 
century  lords.  In  the  midst  of  their  diversions,  literature 
was  not  forgotten.  Never,  in  fact,  were  the  upper  classes 
more  devoted  to  it.  They  wrote  witty  and  pretentious  let¬ 
ters,  full  of  mannerisms,  and  with  the  secret  hope  that  they 
would  be  widely  read  and  might  one  day  form  a  collection 

32 


.  Aristocracy  and  Serfdom 

like  Pliny’s.  They  doggedly  wrote  verses.  To  excel  in 
this  mental  exercise  was  equivalent  to  an  honorary  title. 
They  took  pride  in  excelling  in  verse  as  later  generations 
did  in  wielding  deep-biting  swords.  It  is  in  this  particular 
that  this  aristocracy  differed  from  its  successor.  Although 
fond  of  all  physical  exercises,  it  had  no  taste  for  the  busi¬ 
ness  of  arms,  which  it  regarded  as  unworthy,  and  from 
which  it  had  been  weaned  by  the  imperial  policy.  In  a 
similar  way  the  inviting  and  peaceful  villa  is  distinguished 
from  the  castellum  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Between  this 
pleasure-house  and  the  fortress  of  feudal  times,  one  cannot 
help  but  feel  that  a  world  has  crumbled. 

And  yet  the  feudal  chateau  already  begins  to  appear, 
the  fortress  which  is  to  throw  its  heavy  shadow  over  the 
country-side  for  centuries  to  come.  The  first  invasions 
and  the  appearance  of  robber  bands  had  left  a  feeling  of 
insecurity,  which  the  ever-recurring  evil  of  brigandage 
kept  alive.  The  days  of  the  Roman  peace,  the  pax  romana, 
were  gone  forever.  Every  one  felt  it  more  or  less  clearly, 
and  sooner  or  later  took  precautions  against  sudden  at¬ 
tacks.  The  villa  was  transformed,  as  the  cities  had  been, 
since  the  days  of  Aurelian  and  Diocletian.  A  wall  sprang 
up  around  it.  The  beautiful  residence  of  Pontius  Leon¬ 
tius,  close  to  Bordeaux,  is  to  this  day  fortified  with  ram¬ 
parts  and  towers  capable  of  braving  a  siege.  It  is  the 
burgus  Pontii  Leontii,  Leontius’s  fortress,  and  undoubt¬ 
edly  it  is  not  the  only  one  which  from  that  time  bore  a 
warlike  name.  Thus,  on  all  sides,  and  from  all  points  of 
view,  we  see  multiplied  symptoms  which  announce  the 
end  of  a  great  historic  period  and  the  advent  of  a  new 
society. 


33 


Taxation  in  the  Fourth  Century 


Adapted  from  G.  Bloch,  in  Lavisse:  Histoire  de  France, 

Vol.  I,  Part  ii,  1900,  pp.  280-289. 

HE  reigns  of  Diocletian  (284—305)  and  Constantine 


X  (306—337)  were  marked  by  great  financial  innova¬ 
tions.  Of  the  many  causes  producing  these  changes,  the 
principal  one  was  the  distress  occasioned  by  the  disasters 
of  the  preceding  century.  To  meet  the  expenses  of  the 
reorganized  empire,  it  was  necessary  to  wring  from  taxa¬ 
tion  all  it  could  be  made  to  yield.  Indirect  taxes  were 
relatively  unimportant.  The  tax  upon  manumissions  had 
fallen  with  the  numerical  decline  of  the  slaves.  The  suc¬ 
cession  tax  which  Augustus  had  placed  upon  citizens,  as 
a  set-off  to  their  immunity,  lost  its  raison  d’etre  with  the 
universal  extension  of  citizenship.  Both  of  these  taxes 
were  abolished.  The  customs-duties,  town  dues,  transit 
tolls,  and  taxes  upon  sales  were  retained,  as  were  also  the 
monopoly  of  salt  and  the  exploitation  of  mines  and  im¬ 
perial  lands.  But  by  far  the  most  fruitful  sources  of 
revenue  were  the  direct  taxes  upon  land  and  persons. 

The  assessment  of  the  land-tax  was  altered.  Hitherto 
its  basis  had  been  the  jugerum,  and  each  proprietor  had 
been  taxed  according  to  the  number  and  the  quality  of 
the  jugera  which  he  possessed.  Diocletian  devised  the 
scheme  of  dividing  the  land  into  portions  of  equal  value, 


34 


Taxation  in  the  Fourth  Century 

which  consequently  varied  in  extent  according  to  the 
quality  of  the  soil.  Each  of  these  portions,  whether  owned 
by  one  man  or  several,  formed  the  unit  which  bore  the 
tax.  The  number  of  these  units  in  the  whole  empire,  in 
each  city,  and  in  each  province,  being  known,  and  the 
total  amount  of  the  tax  to  be  levied  being  determined,  mis¬ 
calculation  and  loss  were  out  of  the  question.  The  same 
method  was  applied  to  the  direct  tax  upon  persons.  It, 
also,  rested  upon  a  taxation  unit  (caput)  made  up  of  one 
or  several  persons.  It  is  a  question  still  to  be  decided 
whether  or  not  this  human  capitation  tax  was  superadded 
to  the  land-tax  just  discussed.  The  question  is  purely 
theoretical,  for  the  small  proprietors  who  paid  this  tax 
disappeared  little  by  little. 

A  single  principle  determined  the  organization  of  per¬ 
sonal  taxation.  This  was  neither  to  lighten  the  burden  of 
the  poor  nor  to  increase  that  of  the  rich,  but  simply  to 
seize,  in  every  case,  the  point  where  each  class  of  the 
population  laid  itself  open  to  fiscal  attack. 

The  result  of  this  principle  was  that  the  capitation 
tax  became  a  plebeian  capitation  tax.  It  fell  upon  the 
plebs  alone,  that  is  to  say,  upon  every  one  who  was 
not  at  least  a  curial,  or,  in  other  words,  who  was  not  a 
landowner,  since  there  was  scarcely  a  landowner  who  was 
not  a  member  of  the  municipal  nobility,  at  least.  And,  by 
a  new  restriction,  the  urban  plebs,  the  plebs  of  the  cities, 
ceased  to  be  liable  for  it.  In  place  of  it,  they  were  required 
to  pay  a  special  tax,  the  chrysargyrus,  so  called  because 
payable  in  gold  and  silver,  while  other  taxes  could,  in 
general,  be  paid  in  kind.  The  chrysargyrus  was  a  tax 
levied  on  industry  and  commerce— upon  every  form  of 

35 


Medieval  Civilization 


labor  save  agricultural  labor.  Thus  the  plebeian  capita¬ 
tion  tax  was  restricted  to  the  workers  in  the  fields,  the 
colons,  or,  what  amounted  to  the  same  thing  in  the  end, 
to  their  masters,  who  were  compelled  to  advance  the  tax 
for  them. 

If  the  noble  classes  were  freed  from  the  capitation  tax, 
they  were  none  the  less  bound  to  make  certain  personal 
contributions  over  and  above  their  land-taxes.  The  curials 
paid  the  tax  of  coronary  gold  which,  from  a  voluntary 
gift  of  provincials  to  victorious  generals,  had  become  a 
regular  state  tax.  The  members  of  the  senatorial  order 
paid  an  analogous  tax,  the  aurum  oblatitium,  as  well  as  a 
supplementary  land-tax,  the  gleba  sanatoria.  Senators 
who  attained  the  pretorship  were  heavily  taxed ;  they 
had  to  provide  the  public  spectacles  in  the  capital  of  the 
East  or  of  the  West.  The  municipal  magistrates  of  the 
various  cities  bore  a  similar  burden.  In  general,  there 
was  no  high  functionary  who  had  not  to  pay  the  price  of 
his  elevated  rank. 

Payments  in  kind  held  such  an  enormous  place  in  the 
system  that  it  would  almost  seem  as  if  they  represented 
the  heaviest  part  of  taxation.  There  were  the  corvees  for 
the  maintenance  of  the  roads  and  other  works  of  this 
sort,  provisions  for  the  post-service  and  the  army, — horses, 
food,  clothing,  and  raw  materials  for  the  manufacture  of 
arms, — and  also  the  furnishing  of  conscripts,  together  with 
the  lodging  of  the  troops  and  the  entertainment  of  the 
emperor  and  his  suite,  and  of  every  one  traveling  at  his 
command.  All  these  payments  in  kind  rested  upon  the 
land,  which  was  the  principal  form  of  wealth,  and  which 
was  thus  subject  to  a  disproportionate  burden.  There 

36 


Taxation  in  the  Fourth  Century 

were  also  services  due  from  certain  industrial  and  artisan 
corporations.  The  corporation  of  watermen,  for  example, 
was  bound  to  provide  the  necessary  water  transportation 
in  matters  of  public  utility. 

The  expenses  of  government  were  light  compared  with 
those  of  to-day.  To  be  sure,  it  was  necessary  to  sup¬ 
port  the  excessive  luxury  of  two  courts,  and  to  maintain 
the  plebs  of  the  two  capitals.  It  was  also  necessary  to 
scatter  gold  among  the  barbarians.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  army  was  small  compared  with  those  of  the  present 
day,  and  the  government  officials,  though  numerous,  were 
not  proportionately  more  numerous  than  at  present  in 
France.  There  was  no  diplomatic  service,  no  staff  of 
teachers  to  be  maintained,  and  no  public  debt  upon  which 
interest  had  to  be  paid.  If  the  budget  of  receipts  corre¬ 
sponded  to  the  budget  of  expenditures  it  cannot  be  said  to 
have  been  too  heavy,  and  yet  contemporary  writers  assert 
that  it  was.  Various  causes  aggravated  the  weight  of  the 
burden. 

First  to  be  mentioned  are  the  troubles  caused  by  the  in¬ 
vasions  and  the  economic  distress  which  they  produced. 
Constantine,  in  31 1,  remitted  to  the  Tfduans  five  years  of 
tax  arrearages  and  gave  them  a  reduction  of  one  quarter 
for  the  future.  The  .TLduans  had  just  gone  through  a 
terrible  crisis.  Forty  years  previously  they  had  waged  a 
desperate  struggle  for  the  unity  of  the  empire.  Many 
other  peoples  had  undergone  the  same  disasters  and  se¬ 
cured  the  same  remedy  of  tax  remission.  Gratian  (367- 
383)  remitted  the  taxes  of  all  Gaul.  Favors  of  this  sort 
became  more  frequent,  and  they  bear  witness  to  the  evils 
they  were  vainly  intended  to  correct. 

37 


Medieval  Civilization 

Another  fiscal  sore,  for  which  the  weakness  of  the  cen¬ 
tral  power  was  wholly  responsible,  was  the  rapacity  of  the 
officials.  When  Julian  came  to  Gaul  in  356  he  found  the 
country  crushed  and  “  panting  ”  under  the  pressure  of 
official  rapacity.  When  he  left  Gaul,  four  years  later, 
after  four  years  of  glorious  government,  the  work  of  re¬ 
covery  was  much  advanced. 

The  chief  cause  of  the  intolerable  weight  of  taxation 
was  the  manner  in  which  the  amount  was  determined  and 
collected.  The  contemporary  complaints  refer  to  this 
almost  exclusively.  It  should  be  noted,  however,  that  the 
subjects  of  the  empire  who  paid  the  tax  had  not,  like 
modern  peoples,  the  satisfaction  of  settling  the  amount  of 
the  taxes,  and  the  purposes  for  which  they  should  be  used, 
and  of  supervising  the  expenditure.  The  taxes  appeared 
to  them  not  as  a  just  debt,  but  as  a  tyrannical  exaction. 
They  were,  therefore,  the  more  inclined  to  complain  since 
they  could  not  appreciate  the  extent  to  which  the  taxes 
were  devoted  to  useful  objects.  A  large  proportion  of  the 
taxes  were  paid  in  kind.  Nowadays  the  State  asks  its 
subjects  for  money  alone.  The  Roman  State  asked  some¬ 
thing  more.  It  demanded  that  its  subjects  should  help  to 
furnish  directly  the  commodities  it  required,  or  aid  di¬ 
rectly  in  the  public  works.  It  asked  of  the  farmers  a 
portion  of  their  crops  and  of  their  cattle ;  it  demanded  of 
the  artisans  a  part  of  the  products  of  their  industry,  and 
of  others  the  assistance  of  their  hands  and  their  substance 
for  its  building  operations,  and  the  conveyance  of  its 
goods.  The  scarcity  of  money  had  produced  the  system, 
and  the  government  clung  to  it  more  tenaciously  as  the 
detestable  practice  of  falsifying  the  coinage  developed. 

38 


Taxation  in  the  Fourth  Century 

The  value  of  the  coins  often  fell  very  low,  while  the  use¬ 
fulness  of  the  commodities  and  of  human  labor  remained 
the  same,  and  the  difference  meant  a  gain  for  the  State 
and  a  loss  for  the  individual.  The  corvee  had  another  in¬ 
convenience  which  was  peculiar  to  it.  It  was  vexatious  as 
well  as  burdensome;  it  took  men  away  from  their  own 
affairs  and  exposed  them  to  official  abuse  of  power.  And 
as  payments  in  kind  involved  corvees  for  transportation, 
they  pressed  upon  the  populations  with  redoubled  weight. 

The  obligation  to  make  a  declaration  of  one’s  property 
set  at  loggerheads  the  tax-payers  and  the  fiscal  agents, 
the  former  trying  to  depreciate  its  value,  the  latter  striv¬ 
ing  to  estimate  it  at  its  proper  value,  and,  too  often,  to 
give  it  an  excessive  valuation.  In  this  duel  the  officials 
were  at  an  advantage  by  reason  of  the  harshness  of  the 
Roman  laws,  which  authorized  them  to  resort  to  torture  to 
secure  declarations  agreeable  to  them.  And  they  did  em¬ 
ploy  it,  if  not  against  proprietors,  against  the  lower  classes. 
Especially  in  matters  of  direct  taxes,  which  bore  heavily 
upon  the  urban  and  rural  plebs,  they  made  use  of  it,  and 
the  operation  of  the  tax  levy  became  the  occasion  of  odious 
scenes,  which  do  much  to  explain  the  hatred  it  aroused. 

There  were  two  causes  for  the  harshness  connected  with 
the  collection  of  taxes.  One  was  the  abuse  which 
shifted  the  main  burden  of  taxation  upon  the  classes  least 
able  to  bear  it ;  the  other,  the  laws  which  made  the  tax- 
collectors  themselves  responsible  for  the  amount  of  the 
taxes. 

The  great  landowners  sought  in  every  way  to  escape 
taxation.  The  incessant  crises  which  placed  the  empire  in 
jeopardy,  and  the  frequency  of  the  struggles  for  the  im- 

39 


Medieval  Civilization 


perial  crown,  rendered  their  assistance  most  valuable.  In 
return,  they  were  granted  collective  or  individual  immu¬ 
nities,  which  increased  with  time  and  dried  up  a  good  part 
of  the  revenues  of  the  State.  In  cases  where  it  appeared 
that  the  levy  of  the  taxes  was  imminent  they  resorted  to 
high-handed  measures.  They  raised  small  armies  from 
their  vast  domains  and  drove  away  the  tax-officials.  This 
was  rarely  necessary,  for  they  were  generally  able  to  come 
to  an  understanding  with  the  officials,  and  the  tax-regis¬ 
ters  became  a  tissue  of  frauds.  If  fresh  taxes  were  im¬ 
posed,  they  arranged  that  the  burden  should  fall  upon 
others.  If  the  emperor  granted  a  remission  of  taxes,  they 
saw  to  it  that  they  monopolized  the  benefit.  The  gov¬ 
ernors  and  functionaries  of  every  grade  did  not  dare  to 
enter  into  a  struggle  with  these  personages,  who  were 
eminent  in  their  own  districts,  and  who  had  often  held 
high  places  in  the  government  service  or  at  court.  More¬ 
over,  the  governors  and  functionaries  themselves  belonged 
to  the  senatorial  class,  of  which  the  great  landowners 
were  members,  and  were  therefore  only  too  willing  to 
shut  their  eyes  to  such  misdeeds. 

The  result  was  that  the  poor  paid  for  the  rich,  and  as 
it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  make  up  from  the  one  side 
what  was  lost  on  the  other,  the  easier  it  was  for  the  one 
class  to  escape,  the  more  pitilessly  was  the  other  class 
exploited.  And  this  was  not  the  least  important  of  the 
causes  of  the  disappearance  of  the  small  landowners. 
The  small  proprietor  who  gave  his  land  to  a  great  pro¬ 
prietor  and  cultivated  it  in  his  name,  as  a  colon,  freed 
himself  from  land-taxes ;  and  as  for  the  personal  capita¬ 
tion  tax  which  now  fell  upon  him  as  a  colon,  the  interven- 


40 


Taxation  in  the  Fourth  Century 

tion  of  his  master  rendered  that  more  supportable.  The 
worker  in  the  city  had  not  this  mode  of  escape,  although 
he,  also,  willingly  resorted  to  patronage  to  defend  himself 
against  the  demands  of  the  fisc.  That  is  why  the  chrysar- 
gyrus  was  perhaps  the  most  execrated  of  all  the  taxes. 

Below  the  senators  of  the  empire,  the  clarissimi,  came 
the  members  of  the  municipal  senates,  the  decurions  or 
curials,  who  were  middle  proprietors,  or  owners  of  mod¬ 
erate  quantities  of  land.  They  were  the  peculiar  prey  of 
the  fisc.  They  not  only  paid,  each  for  himself,  the  coro¬ 
nary  gold  tax  and  the  land-tax,  but,  as  assessors,  collectors, 
and  guarantors,  they  bore  the  weight  of  the  latter  for 
their  fellow-citizens  of  the  municipality.  When  the 
amount  of  the  taxation  of  the  municipality,  as  a  whole, 
was  settled,  their  first  care  was  to  apportion  it  among  the 
taxpayers.  Then,  from  the  curia  itself,  they  chose  ex¬ 
actors,  charged  with  the  duty  of  collecting  it.  Finally, 
they  were,  as  a  group,  bound  to  turn  over  the  whole 
amount  to  the  government.  In  placing  these  obligations 
upon  the  curials,  the  government  saved  itself  much  trouble 
and  expense,  and,  above  all,  secured  a  pledge  for  the 
amount  of  the  tax.  It  did  not  see  that  these  advantages 
were  slight  compared  with  the  resultant  evils.  For  the 
system  of  curial  taxation  undoubtedly  inflicted  one  of 
those  wounds  through  which  the  living  material  and  moral 
forces  of  Roman  society  ran  out. 

There  was  an  initial  danger  in  allowing  one  group  of 
the  taxpayers  to  determine  the  share  of  all.  The  tempta¬ 
tion  was  too  strong  to  ease  their  own  burdens  at  the  ex¬ 
pense  of  the  others.  The  curials  lightened  their  own 
loads,  not  at  the  expense  of  the  great  proprietors,  the 

4i 


Medieval  Civilization 


senators,  but  at  the  expense  of  the  small  proprietors.  The 
worst  phase  of  the  system  was  that  they  were  responsi¬ 
ble  in  case  of  deficit, — the  exactors  first;  then,  in  case  of 
their  failure,  their  sureties ;  and,  finally,  the  whole  curia. 
Thus  it  resulted  that,  in  pursuing  the  debtors  of  the  State, 
they  were  protecting  their  own  property  from  levy,  and 
one  can  easily  understand  the  ardor  of  the  pursuit.  Sal- 
vian  says  that  there  were  as  many  tyrants  as  curials,  and 
assuredly  it  could  hardly  have  been  otherwise,  human  na¬ 
ture  being  as  it  is.  But  the  very  bitterness  which  they 
carried  into  the  task  turned  to  their  own  destruction. 
When  the  smaller  landowners  were  exhausted  under  the 
blows  of  the  curial  taxation,  then  it  was  the  turn  of  the 
curials  themselves.  To  escape  this  impending  ruin  there 
was  but  one  plan— escape  from  the  curia.  Some  few  suc¬ 
ceeded  in  doing  this  through  exceptional  favors,  the  em¬ 
peror  advancing  them  to  senatorial  rank.  For  the  great 
majority,  the  curia  was  a  jail  whose  doors  did  not  open. 

The  interest  of  the  fisc  was  too  manifest.  It  had  not  put 
its  hand  on  these  hostages  to  let  them  escape.  Hence 
those  laws  which  weighed  so  heavily  upon  the  curials  — 
prohibition  to  live  outside  the  city,  to  dispose  of  their 
property  by  sale  or  by  will,  obligation  of  the  son  to  suc¬ 
ceed  to  his  father’s  duties,  etc.,  etc.  And  the  curia,  as 
well  as  the  State,  saw  to  it  that  the  laws  were  observed. 
The  curia  intervened  energetically  to  drag  back  to  his 
chains  the  colleague  whose  defection  meant  an  increase  of 
the  burden  of  each  remaining  curial. 

The  curials  were  not  the  only  ones  who  were  riveted 
to  their  hereditary  condition.  The  State,  in  placing  a 
special  tax  upon  each  class  of  citizens,  had  undertaken  the 

42 


Taxation  in  the  Fourth  Century 

graceless  task  of  keeping  its  hand  upon  them  so  that  each 
class  might  be  in  a  position  to  pay  its  share.  And  as,  in 
addition  to  the  ordinary  taxes,  it  demanded  from  certain 
groups  services  which  nowadays  are  let  out  to  contractors, 
it  was  compelled  to  maintain  at  the  same  level  not  only  the 
fortunes  of,  but  the  numbers  in,  these  groups.  The  water¬ 
men  who  conveyed  public  property,  the  workers  in  the 
arsenals  and  in  the  imperial  manufactories,  the  bakers,  the 
provision-merchants  who  supplied  the  bread  and  meat  for 
distribution  at  Rome  and  Constantinople, — these  composed 
hereditary  castes,  from  which  neither  men  nor  money  were 
to  be  withdrawn.  Reasons  of  a  similar  nature  held  the 
soldier  to  the  army  and  the  colon  to  the  soil.  Men,  im¬ 
prisoned  in  a  destiny  without  exit,  felt  their  energies 
flag,  their  labors  slacken ;  their  mental  horizon  narrowed, 
and  they  lost  that  regard  for  general  interests  without 
which  patriotism  ceases  to  be.  They  no  longer  sought  to 
improve  their  condition.  A  deadly  poison  permeated  the 
body  social,  swallowing  up  intelligence  and  will.  The  evil 
had  many  causes,  but  when  one  wishes  to  explain  the  gen¬ 
eral  stagnation  which  marked  the  end  of  the  empire,  it  is 
well  to  remember  that  it  was  due  in  part  to  a  wrongly 
conceived  system  of  taxation. 


43 


Influence  of  the  Migrations 

Adapted  from  F.  Martroye:  L' occidental' epoque  byzantine; 
Goths  et  Validates,  1904,  pp.  i-ix. 

BY  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century,  the  ruin  of  the 
Roman  Empire  was  consummated  in  the  West.  Its 
provinces,  devastated  by  a  long  series  of  invasions,  pre¬ 
sented  a  spectacle  of  the  most  frightful  distress  and  the 
most  complete  disorganization.  “  If  the  whole  ocean  had 
swept  over  this  country,”  says  a  contemporary,  “  it  would 
not  have  made  more  horrible  ravages.  Our  stock,  our 
fruits,  our  harvests  have  been  taken  from  us.  Our  houses 
in  the  country  have  been  ruined  by  fire  and  water.  The 
small  remnant  left  to  us  is  deserted  and  abandoned.  This 
is  only  the  most  petty  of  our  woes.  For  ten  years  the 
Goths  and  Vandals  have  been  making  a  horrible  slaughter 
among  us.  Castles  built  upon  rocks,  villages  situated 
upon  the  highest  mountains,  even  cities  surrounded  by 
rivers,  have  not  been  able  to  protect  their  inhabitants 
against  the  fury  of  these  barbarians.  Everywhere  they 
have  been  exposed  to  the  last  extremities.  If  I  cannot 
complain  of  the  indiscriminate  massacre  of  so  many  per¬ 
sons  eminent  by  their  rank,  and  of  so  many  peoples  who 
may  have  received  only  a  just  punishment  for  the  sins 
which  they  had  committed,  may  I  not,  at  least,  ask  why 
so  many  young  children,  still  incapable  of  sin,  were  swal- 


44 


Influence  of  the  Migrations 

lowed  up  in  the  same  carnage?  Why  did  God  allow  his 
temples  to  be  consumed  by  fire  ?  Why  did  he  permit  the 
profanation  of  the  sacred  vases,  of  the  sanctity  of  virgins, 
of  the  religion  and  piety  of  widows?  Why  have  the 
monks  in  their  grottoes  and  caverns,  who  had  no  other 
occupation  than  praising  God  night  and  day,  experienced 
no  better  fortune  than  the  most  profane  among  men? 
The  tempest  has  swept  away  indiscriminately  the  good 
and  the  bad,  the  innocent  and  the  guilty.  The  dignity 
of  the  priesthood  has  not  exempted  the  clergy  of  God 
from  suffering  the  same  indignities  as  the  lowest  of  the 
people.  They  have  been  thrown  into  chains,  torn  by 
scourges,  and  condemned  to  the  flames  like  the  worst 
of  men.” 

These  complaints  were  not  at  all  exaggerated.  The 
author  of  this  poem  had  himself  shared  the  misfortunes 
which  he  describes.  He  had  been  led  away  into  captivity 
and  constrained  to  march  on  foot,  bearing  a  burden,  in 
the  midst  of  the  chariots  and  weapons  of  the  barbarians, 
with  the  sad  consolation  of  seeing  his  bishop,  a  holy  and 
venerable  man,  and  all  the  people  in  the  same  condition. 
To  so  many  ills  were  added  the  sufferings  caused  by  the 
troublesome  and  greedy  administration,  by  the  rapacity 
of  the  treasury,  by  the  shameless  avidity  of  the  magistrates 
and  officials.  The  Roman  administration,  pretending  to 
regulate  people,  things,  and  beliefs,  had  suppressed  all 
individual  initiative,  and  permitted  activity  only  amid  a 
labyrinth  of  laws  and  regulations.  Constantly  it  drew 
tighter  and  tighter  the  bonds  which  enveloped  the  entire 
society,  prescribing  what  it  was  necessary  to  think,  under 
penalty  of  chastisement,  ordering  when  and  how  it  was 

45 


Medieval  Civilization 


necessary  to  get  married,  at  what  age  and  under  what  con¬ 
ditions  a  man  could  enter  a  monastery  or  become  a  mem¬ 
ber  of  the  clergy,  where  and  how  he  ought  to  live.  The 
imperial  power  took  away  from  its  subjects  all  freedom 
to  dispose  of  their  own  persons  and  their  own  property, 
crushed  them  with  burdens  from  which  no  asylum  could 
liberate  them,  and  left  to  them  no  hope  except  the  de¬ 
struction  of  the  empire,  rendered  odious  by  so  many  per¬ 
secutions,  constraints,  and  exactions. 

This  system  of  government,  together  with  the  inva¬ 
sions  and  the  religious  and  political  struggles,  had  finally 
dried  up  the  sources  of  prosperity  and  diminished  for¬ 
tunes  already  acquired.  A  contemporary  wrote  :  “  As  to 
the  magistrates,  they  do  not  govern  those  who  are  deliv¬ 
ered  over  to  them ;  like  ferocious  beasts,  they  devour 
them.  They  are  not  content  with  plunder,  as  is  the  custom 
with  bandits ;  they  tear  them  to  pieces,  as  it  were,  and 
feed  upon  their  blood.  Thus  it  has  come  to  pass  that  some, 
strangled  and  murdered,  have  become  vagabonds  because 
they  could  live  in  no  other  way.  They  have  become  what 
they  would  not,  because  it  has  not  been  possible  for  them 
to  be  what  they  would.  After  having  lost  all  liberty,  they 
have  been  compelled  to  defend  their  very  lives.  Moreover, 
what  could  the  unfortunate  do  who  were  continuously 
ruined,  without  any  respite,  by  the  treasury,  and  were  al¬ 
ways  threatened  with  proscription?  Forced  to  desert 
their  dwellings  in  order  not  to  be  tortured  in  their  own 
houses,  reduced  to  exile  in  order  to  escape  punishment,  the 
enemy  appeared  to  them  more  merciful.  They  fled  to  the 
enemy  in  order  to  escape  the  rigors  of  Roman  exactions. 
Where,  among  what  people  other  than  the  Romans,  are 

46 


Influence  of  the  Migrations 

such  evils  seen?  A  like  injustice  exists  only  among  us. 
The  Franks  are  ignorant  of  these  crimes ;  the  Huns  have 
none  of  this  rascality;  nothing  like  it  exists  among  the 
Vandals  or  the  Goths ;  among  the  Visigoths  such  proceed¬ 
ings  are  so  entirely  unknown  that  neither  these  barbarians 
nor  the  Romans  who  live  among  them  have  to  suffer  them. 
It  is  for  this  reason  that,  in  the  countries  which  the  bar¬ 
barians  occupy,  all  Romans  pray  never  to  pass  under 
Roman  rule.  In  this  country  all  Roman  people  desire  to 
be  allowed  to  continue  to  live  among  barbarians.  It  is 
not  astonishing  that  our  fathers  did  not  conquer  the  Goths, 
since  the  Romans  preferred  to  live  with  them  rather  than 
with  us.  Not  only  have  our  brethren  no  wish  to  leave 
them  in  order  to  come  to  us,  but  they  leave  us  in  order  to 
take  refuge  with  them.  The  only  fact  which  can  rightly 
cause  us  to  wonder  is  that  all  Roman  tributaries,  impov¬ 
erished  and  reduced  to  misery,  do  not  act  in  the  same 
manner.  The  only  thing  which  prevents  is  their  inability 
to  transport  to  the  barbarians  their  dwellings,  their  prop¬ 
erty,  and  their  families.” 

The  facts  revealed  by  this  gloomy  description  are  tes¬ 
tified  to  by  the  law,  dated  at  Ravenna  the  eighth  day  before 
the  ides  of  November,  under  the  consulship  of  Leo  and 
Majorian  (November  6,  458).  “We  must,”  writes  the 
emperor,  “  consider  the  curias,  which  the  ancients  rightly 
called  ‘  little  senates,’  as  the  souls  of  the  cities  and  the 
sinews  of  the  republic.  Nevertheless,  they  have  been  so 
oppressed  by  the  injustice  of  the  magistrates  and  by  the 
venality  of  the  tax-gatherers  that  most  of  their  members 
have  resigned  their  offices,  expatriated  themselves,  and 
sought  an  obscure  asylum  in  the  distant  provinces.”  Thus, 

47 


Medieval  Civilization 


after  having  accustomed  the  people  to  bear  passively  a 
tyranny  which  extended  to  every  act  of  life,  the  imperial 
administration  had  finally  worn  out  the  patience  of  the 
people  and  prepared  them,  according  to  Salvian’s  state¬ 
ment,  to  prefer  to  live  free  under  the  rule  of  barbarians 
rather  than  as  slaves  under  the  Romans.  The  exaspera¬ 
tion  and  disgust  of  the  population  explain  why  the  Van¬ 
dals  first,  and  later  the  Goths,  were  able  for  years  to 
devastate  the  West  and  to  establish  separate  kingdoms  in 
Africa,  Spain,  and  Italy.  As  early  as  429,  when  the  Van¬ 
dals  invaded  Africa,  whole  populations  of  the  proscribed 
awaited  them  as  liberators,  and  forming  a  party  devoted  to 
them,  facilitated  the  establishment  of  the  first  barbarian 
kingdom. 

In  Italy,  especially  at  Rome,  there  could  be  no  thought 
of  separation,  such  as  existed  in  the  provinces ;  but  like 
causes  produced  like  results.  The  exactions  of  the  treas¬ 
ury,  its  continual  demands,  which  exhausted  the  people ; 
the  ever-increasing  insecurity,  which  ruined  and  destroyed 
commerce ;  the  abolition  of  the  ancient  religions,  which 
had  divided  the  population  into  two  hostile  parties ;  the  ab¬ 
solute  authority  of  the  emperor,  which  gave  to  the  citizens 
no  share  in  public  afifairs,  and  permitted  to  them  no  effort 
to  remedy  the  evils  of  which  they  were  the  victims ;  the 
organization  of  the  imperial  court,  which  made  of  the  em¬ 
peror  the  puppet  of  ambitious  intriguers  and  cabals,— all 
these  causes  for  discouragement  had  produced  in  every 
class  of  society  weariness  and  indifference,  and  had  de¬ 
based  the  public  character  and  public  morality. 

At  Rome,  misery  and  the  departure  of  the  court  had 
depopulated  the  city,  henceforth  all  too  vast  for  its  inhabi- 

48 


Influence  of  the  Migrations 

tants.  The  second  sack  of  Rome,  captured  by  the  Vandals 
under  Gaiseric  in  455,  had  given  the  fatal  stroke  to  the 
unfortunate  capital  of  the  West.  It  did  not  recover  again. 
A  great  number  of  the  inhabitants  had  perished,  others 
had  been  led  away  into  slavery ;  those  who  had  been  able 
to  escape  did  not  return,  but  continued  to  drag  out  a 
wretched  existence  in  the  provinces  of  the  empire.  Rome, 
depopulated,  encumbered  by  remnants  and  ruins,  com¬ 
menced  then  to  take  on  its  aspect  of  majestic  desolation. 


49 


Germans  in  the  Roman  Empire 

Adapted  from  E.  Lavisse:  Etudes  sur  l' histoire  d' Alletnagne, 
Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  July  15,  1885,  pp.  401-408. 

AT  the  end  of  the  fifth  century  the  Visigoths  were 
„  masters  of  the  whole  Rhone  valley ;  the  Burgun¬ 
dians,  of  southern  Gaul  and  Spain ;  the  Ostrogoths,  of 
Italy.  Before  the  latter  had  established  themselves,  a 
great  event  had  taken  place.  Odoacer,  chief  of  the  mer¬ 
cenaries  who  occupied  the  Italian  peninsula,  had  taken 
the  imperial  insignia  from  Romulus  Augustulus,  the  last 
of  the  phantom  Caesars  who  had  succeeded  one  another  in 
Italy  for  half  a  century,  and  had  sent  them  to  Constanti¬ 
nople.  The  envoys  of  the  senate,  who  gave  them  to  the 
emperor  in  476,  told  him  that  a  single  master  was  sufficient 
for  the  government  of  the  world.  Zeno  was  obliged  to 
believe  it,  and  the  empire  withdrew  from  the  West.  Al¬ 
though  in  theory  it  maintained  its  rights,  in  reality  it  left 
the  field  free  to  the  barbarian  kings.  It  might  have 
seemed  probable  that  they  were  going  to  introduce  a  new 
mode  of  life  into  the  old  Roman  world;  but  this  expatri¬ 
ated  Germany  survived  for  only  a  few  generations,  and 
has  left  only  a  memory. 

These  barbarians,  moreover,  had  settled  without  vio¬ 
lence.  The  terms  of  their  settlement  had  been  arranged 
by  the  last  defenders  of  the  empire.  Constantius  had 

50 


Germans  in  the  Roman  Empire 

placed  the  Burgundians,  in  413,  on  the  left  bank  of  the 
Rhine,  and  thirty  years  later  Aetius  had  transported  them 
to  Savoy.  The  Visigoths,  ever  since  they  had  entered 
the  empire  as  suppliants,  had  certainly  been  unsatisfactory 
servants.  They  had  departed  from  the  banks  of  the 
Danube,  had  pillaged  Greece,  Asia  Minor,  and  Italy,  had 
visited  Athens,  had  captured  Rome,  and  then  wandered 
into  southern  Gaul  and  Spain.  Although  they  often  re¬ 
volted,  they  always  returned  to  their  obedience,  and  Con- 
stantius,  in  419,  gave  to  them  as  a  dwelling-place  the 
Aquitania  secunda. 

Accordingly,  the  Burgundians  and  Visigoths  were, 
properly  speaking,  portions  of  the  imperial  army  stationed 
in  the  provinces ;  for  the  Roman  soldiers  in  the  last  ages 
of  the  empire  were  lodged  in  the  houses  of  the  landowners, 
and  the  law  assured  to  them  the  use  of  a  portion  of  the 
house  in  which  they  were  guests.  It  is  true  that  amid 
the  distress  of  the  fifth  century  it  was  no  longer  possible 
to  distribute  food  to  the  barbarians ;  therefore  it  was 
necessary  to  give  them  a  part  of  the  house  and  of  the 
estate,  and  thus  they  became  proprietors.  It  is  true,  also, 
that  these  armies  were  tribes  commanded  by  kings  who 
had  a  government  and  policy  of  their  own,  which  could 
not  be  harmonized  with  military  obedience ;  therefore  they 
obeyed  very  badly.  The  Burgundians  had  spread  over 
the  valley  of  the  Rhone  without  violence,  and  with  the 
good  will  of  the  inhabitants ;  the  Visigoths,  on  the  other 
hand,  were  more  enterprising  and  had  to  be  checked  by 
force.  But  when  the  Huns*  invaded  Gaul,  the  emperor 
wrote  to  the  king  of  the  Visigoths,  “  Come  to  the  aid  of 
the  republic  to  which  you  belong,”  and  Theodoric  went  to 

51 


Medieval  Civilization 


meet  his  death  in  the  great  battle  against  Attila.  The 
Burgundians  obeyed  without  hesitation  the  summons  sent 
to  them  by  the  Roman  general  Aetius.  Even  after  the 
withdrawal  of  the  imperial  power  had  left  the  barbarian 
kings  independent,  the  Visigoths  lost  none  of  their  re¬ 
spect  for  the  imperial  majesty,  and  the  Burgundians  con¬ 
tinued  to  be  its  humble  servants.  The  last  of  their  kings 
wrote  to  the  emperor,  early  in  the  sixth  century :  “  My 
race  is  your  servant ;  my  people  is  yours.  I  am  less  proud 
of  commanding  it  than  of  obeying  you.  My  ancestors 
always  felt  that  they  received  their  most  illustrious  titles 
from  the  hands  of  your  Highness.  They  always  prized 
the  gifts  received  from  the  emperor  more  highly  than 
their  ancestral  inheritance.” 

The  Ostrogoths  were  even  more  devoted  to  the  empire 
than  the  Visigoths  and  the  Burgundians.  After  they  had 
been  forced  into  the  service  of  the  Huns,  in  which  they 
remained  for  eighty  years,  they  went  to  the  Danube  fron¬ 
tier,  as  the  Visigoths  had  done  seventy-five  years  before. 
They  might  have  seized  the  land,  but  “  they  preferred  to 
ask  the  Roman  emperor  for  it.”  When  the  emperor  had 
given  them  some  portions,  they  demanded  better  ones,  and 
ravaged  several  provinces.  After  that,  they  cried  for  re¬ 
lief  from  famine.  They  were  without  food  and  without 
money  when  the  emperor  sent  them  to  Italy,  or  at  least 
permitted  them  to  go  there.  After  Theodoric,  their  king, 
had  conquered  and  dispossessed  Odoacer,  he  left  the  im¬ 
perial  statue  standing  in  the  Roman  forum,  placed  the 
imperial  effigy  upon  his  coin's,  wrote  the  emperor’s  name 
on  the  monuments  which  he  restored,  and  had  the  consuls 
at  Rome  confirmed  by  the  emperor.  Although  he  consid- 

52 


Germans  in  the  Roman  Empire 

ered  himself  both  the  king  of  his  nation  and  a  sort  of 
colleague  of  the  emperor,  he  never  ventured  to  express 
himself  freely  as  to  the  nature  of  the  office  which  he  held, 
nor  did  he  obtain  a  definition  of  it  from  Constantinople. 
As  long  as  he  lived,  he  professed  to  have  the  most  pro¬ 
found  respect  for  the  “  very  pious  and  serene  ”  emperor. 

The  barbarians  were,  therefore,  neither  strangers  nor 
enemies  to  the  Roman  inhabitants,  and  they  governed 
them  as  well  as  they  could.  In  studying  the  government 
of  Theodoric,  nothing  seems  changed  in  the  Italian  penin¬ 
sula,  except  that  there  were  more  Romans.  The  senate, 
the  magistracies,  the  administration,  the  schools,  and  the 
monuments  remained  or  were  restored.  Roman  Italy,  in 
the  hands  of  the  Ostrogoths,  was  a  ruin  undergoing  resto¬ 
ration.  The  barbarians  had  no  especial  privileges  in  this 
state,  of  which  their  king  was  chief,  and  Theodoric’s  pol¬ 
icy  was  to  make  Goths  and  Romans  live  in  peace,  under 
the  same  law,  so  that  at  some  time  in  the  future  it  would 
not  be  possible  to  distinguish  one  from  the  other.  The 
Burgundians  and  the  Visigoths  were  farther  away  from 
Constantinople.  Gaul,  their  new  country,  was  Roman 
land,  to  be  sure,  but  it  had  not  been  the  cradle  of  the  em¬ 
pire,  and  it  had  neither  senate,  consuls,  forum,  nor  the 
immovable  rock  of  the  Capitol ;  therefore  they  did  not 
imitate  imperial  customs  so  closely.  They  did  not  at¬ 
tempt  to  fuse  the  two  races.  The  Visigoths  followed 
this  remarkable  course :  they  wrote  out  their  own  law 
and,  at  the  same  time,  drew  up  a  Roman  law  suited  to 
the  novel  situation  and  circumstances  in  which  they  were 
living.  All  the  customary  law  passed  from  the  Theo- 
dosian  code  into  the  code  of  Alaric.  But  a  number  of 


53 


Medieval  Civilization 


subjects  which  had  been  in  the  Theodosian  code  were 
omitted,  as  useless ;  dignities,  offices,  the  private  treasury 
of  the  prince,  the  privileges  of  the  imperial  family,  charges, 
honors,  taxes— all  these  things  which  had  been  crushing 
the  empire  were  lessened  or  abolished.  The  two  laws, 
the  Visigothic  and  the  Roman,  existed,  side  by  side,  until 
the  end  of  the  seventh  century,  and  then  were  fused  into 
a  single  law,  no  longer  personal,  but  territorial,  common 
to  the  two  races.  Surely,  they  could  not  have  done  bet¬ 
ter,  and  as  the  kings  and  the  people  among  the  barbarians 
showed  no  race  hostility,  no  parvenu  pride,  and  none 
of  the  wonted  severity  of  the  conqueror  to  the  conquered, 
they  may  be  said  to  have  deserved  success. 

Undoubtedly  they  were  opposed  and  disdained  by  indi¬ 
viduals  who  were  inspired  by  all  sorts  of  feelings,  some 
puerile,  others  worthy  of  respect.  The  Roman  patriotism 
of  an  Apollinaris  Sidonius, -for  instance,  was  worthy  of 
respect.  Sidonius  was  born,  as  he  himself  said,  of  a  pre- 
torian  family.  His  father  and  grandfathers  had  been 
pretorian  prefects ;  his  father-in-law  was  Avitus,  who 
was  proclaimed  emperor  in  453.  In  honor  of  Avitus,  he 
wrote  a  poem  in  which  he  expresses  eloquently  the  fidelity 
of  Gaul  to  the  empire. 

This  patriotism  was  ennobled  in  certain  men  by  an  in¬ 
tellectual  and  moral  dignity  which  makes  them  seem  very 
great  men  in  the  last  days  of  the  Roman  decadence.  Sym- 
machus,  who  lived  in  the  time  of  Theodoric,  was  the  fourth 
representative  of  an  illustrious  house.  His  great-grand¬ 
father,  according  to  Ammianus  Marcellinus,  had  held  all 
the  magistracies,  and  had  been  one  of  the  chief  lights  in 
the  senate.  His  grandfather,  consul  in  391,  had  defended 

54 


Germans  in  the  Roman  Empire 

the  altar  of  victory,  which  the  Christians  wished  to  have 
removed  from  the  senate  chamber.  He  was  not  a  fervent 
worshiper  of  the  ancient  gods,  for  he  knew  full  well  that 
they  had  departed  never  to  return,  but  he  defended  the  an¬ 
cient  religion,  “  which  had  profited  the  republic  so  long  ” ; 
and  he  said  to  the  emperor  Valentinian :  “  Allow  us,  I 
beg  you,  to  transmit  to  our  children  the  inheritance  of  our 
fathers.”  The  glory  of  Rome  was  his  religion,  and  he 
reedited  Livy,  in  order  to  popularize  the  historian  of  this 
glory.  He  was  a  type  of  the  enlightened  Romans  who 
despised  those  two  novelties,  which  they  considered 
equally  fatal  to  Rome :  Christianity,  because  they  were 
philosophers,  and  the  barbarians,  because  they  were  pa¬ 
triots.  The  third  Symmachus  followed  the  family  tra¬ 
ditions.  Meanwhile,  times  changed,  Christianity  spread 
everywhere,  and  Theodoric  reigned  at  Ravenna.  The 
fourth  Symmachus  was  a  Christian,  but  he  had  a  filial  re¬ 
gard  for  the  memory  of  ancient  Rome.  He  admired  Cato 
of  Utica,  he  reedited  the  Dream  of  Scipio,  and  he  com¬ 
posed  a  History  of  Rome  in  seven  books.  He  did  not 
refuse  to  advise  and  serve  Theodoric,  who  had  asked  him 
to  supervise  the  restoration  of  the  Roman  monuments. 
He  was  no  courtier  of  the  Ostrogoth,  and  he  sought  to 
console  himself  for  the  present  by  contemplation  of  the 
past.  His  son-in-law,  Boethius,  was  like  him.  He,  too, 
was  a  Christian,  but,  like  the  old  Romans,  he  had  studied 
at  Athens.  He  translated  Ptolemy,  Euclid,  and  Plato,  and 
he  was,  standing  on  the  threshold  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the 
first  of  the  great  disciples  of  Aristotle.  He,  too,  served 
Theodoric.  But  what  could  the  father-in-law  and  the  son- 
in-law  think  of  the  prince  who  did  not  love  what  they 

55 


Medieval  Civilization 


loved,  who  did  not  know  what  they  knew,  and  who  used 
a  metal  plate  in  which  the  letters  were  cut  for  signing  his 
name?  Undoubtedly  they  despised  him,  or  at  least  they 
honored  in  him  only  the  representative  of  the  emperor. 
Their  eyes  were  turned  toward  Constantinople.  Theo- 
doric  knew  it,  and  they  paid  with  their  lives  for  their 
fidelity  to  their  native  Roman  land. 

The  party  of  opposition  and  disdain  included,  also,  a 
number  of  those  senatorial  personages  whom  Sidonius  de¬ 
picted  as  living,  after  the  Roman  fashion,  on  villas,  where 
the  master’s  house  was  already  called  a  castellum,  because 
it  had  been  necessary  to  fortify  it.  These  great  lords,  who 
kept  in  the  atrium  the  silver  statues  of  their  ancestors, 
worked  a  part  of  their  estates  by  troops  of  slaves,  dis¬ 
tributed  the  remainder  to  colons,  and  divided  their  leisure 
time  between  hunting  and  literature.  There  were  some 
disdainful  ones  among  these  pseudo-learned  orators, 
poets,  rhetoricians,  grammarians,  and  jurists,  to  whom  Si¬ 
donius  applies  without  shame  the  names  of  Plato,  Horace, 
Vergil,  and  Appius  Claudius ;  they  displayed  in  all 
branches  their  pretentious  mediocrity,— old  pupils  of  great 
masters,  unable  to  do  anything  except  imitate,  but  swollen 
with  pride  at  their  borrowed  knowledge  and  at  their 
adornment  of  faded  rhetoric. 

Venerable  or  ridiculous  opponents  were  not  dangerous 
to  the  barbarians.  The  first  formed  a  very  small  minority, 
who  paid  to  the  memory  of  Rome  the  homage  of  some 
martyrs.  The  others  gave  no  cause  for  uneasiness.  That 
kind  of  frivolous  opposition  is  encountered  every  time  a 
revolution  brings  new  men  upon  the  scene.  The  dispos¬ 
sessed  grumbled  in  their  castles ;  they  took  vengeance  in 

56 


Germans  in  the  Roman  Empire 

epigrams  and  consoled  themselves  by  viewing  their  own 
perfection :  they  did  not  eat  garlic ;  their  perfumes  were 
refined ;  they  used  correct  language  and  they  washed  their 
hands — that  was  enough.  Thus  the  Greeks  found  conso¬ 
lation  under  the  government  of  the  Romans,  the  Romans 
under  the  government  of  the  barbarians,  and  the  French 
emigres  under  the  amnesty  granted  by  the  First  Consul. 
It  was  inoffensive,  and  did  not  hinder  the  newcomers  from 
possessing  the  world.  Moreover,  the  barbarian  kings 
found  their  most  assiduous  courtiers  among  the  Romans. 
These  were  not  merely  traitors  who  sought  wealth  at  their 
courts,  and  paid  rhetoricians  who  wrote  panegyrics  of  the 
king  with  such  a  refinement  of  art  that  their  heroes  could 
understand  them  still  less  than  we  can ;  but  there  was 
also  at  the  courts  of  all  these  kings  honorable  men,  who 
served  them  honorably.  In  Italy,  Cassiodorus  may  be 
contrasted  with  Symmachus  and  Boethius.  Cassiodorus, 
like  Symmachus,  belonged  to  a  great  family :  one  Cassio¬ 
dorus,  a  rich  landowner  in  Bruttium,  had  defended 
southern  Italy  and  Sicily  against  the  Vandals ;  a  second 
was  the  friend  of  Aetius,  the  last  politician  and  the  last 
soldier  of  the  Western  Empire ;  but  the  third  yielded  to  the 
course  of  events :  from  Romulus  Augustulus  he  passed 
to  Odoacer,  from  Odoacer  to  Theodoric.  The  last  and  the 
most  illustrious  was  the  principal  minister  of  Theodoric 
and  his  successors.  He  directed  the  old  and  recently  re¬ 
paired  administrative  machine.  He  placed  his  learning 
at  the  service  of  Theodoric ;  he  made  of  the  latter,  in  the 
letters  which  he  composed  in  his  name,  a  scholar  who  dis¬ 
cussed  the  history  of  architecture  from  the  time  of  the 
Cyclops,  when  he  wrote,  to  an  architect ;  the  history  of 

57 


Medieval  Civilization 


music  since  Orpheus,  when  he  wrote  to  a  musician ;  he 
lent  to  him  the  words  of  an  artist  who  felt  and  enjoyed 
all  the  refinements  of  art.  Thus  he  made  this  parvenu 
venerable ;  he  did  the  same  for  the  royal  family  and  the 
race  of  the  Goths,  for  he  demonstrated  the  identity  of  the 
Goths  and  the  Geti,  he  transformed  the  Amazons  into 
Gothic  women,  and  made  Theodoric  a  successor  of  Zal- 
moxis  and  Sitalkes.  That  was  some  consolation  for  the 
descendants  of  Romulus,  who  had  to  obey  him ;  and  Cas- 
siodorus  said  so  in  fitting  language.  Such  a  good  servant 
more  than  made  up  to  Theodoric  for  the  disdain  of  Sym- 
machus,  Boethius,  and  men  like  them. 

How  long  would  this  opposition  have  lasted,  even 
among  the  best  men?  The  example  of  Sidonius  shows 
that  very  few  of  them  were  irreconcilable.  He  is  one  of 
the  heroes  of  the  resistance  against  the  Visigoths  in 
Auvergne.  As  bishop  of  Clermont,  he  defended  his  epis¬ 
copal  city  with  the  energy  of  despair.  When  the  province 
was  finally  surrendered  to  the  Goths,  he  was  indignant  at 
the  bishop  of  Marseilles,  who  had  negotiated  the  treaty ; 
how  could  they  deliver  to  the  barbarians  these  noble  men 
of  Auvergne  who  were  descended  from  the  Trojans  just 
as  fully  as  the  Latins  themselves?  And  he  regretted,  in 
his  writings,  those  years  of  strife  when  the  swords  were 
fat  with  blood  and  the  stomachs  pinched  by  famine ;  he 
said  that  he  wished  that  he  was  still  besieged,  still  fight¬ 
ing,  and  still  starving.  But  he  ended  by  yielding  to  the 
force  of  events.  Before  the  Visigoths  had  become  ene¬ 
mies  of  Auvergne  he  had  not  disdained  to  court  their 
king;  he  had  even  played  dice  with  him,  and,  to  put  him 
in  a  good  humor,  had  let  himself  be  beaten.  “  I  had  a 

58 


Germans  in  the  Roman  Empire 

request  to  make ;  I  let  him  beat  me ;  fortunate  defeat !  ” 
When  those  odious  Visigoths  had  taken  his  province  he 
went  into  exile  for  a  time ;  but  when  he  returned  he  went 
to  salute  Eurie  at  Bordeaux.  The  king  kept  him  waiting 
two  months  for  an  audience.  Sidonius  consoled  himself 
with  a  little  poem :  “  Was  not  the  whole  world  waiting 
as  well  as  he  ?  ”  And  he  described  the  whole  train  of 
suppliants :  the  Saxon,  accustomed  to  the  sea  but  trem¬ 
bling  on  land ;  the  Sicambrian,  letting  grow  again  his 
hair,  which  he  had  cut  after  his  defeat ;  the  Burgundian, 
who  knelt  in  spite  of  his  seven  feet  of  stature ;  even  the 
Roman,  who  came  to  beg  aid  against  the  dangers  from 
the  North. 

Thus  was  extinguished,  little  by  little,  this  opposition  of 
disdain ;  after  a  few  generations  none  of  it  was  left. 
Moreover,  the  immense  majority  of  the  provincials  had 
gone  over  to  the  new  order  of  things.  A  change  of  mas¬ 
ters  made  little  difference  to  those  of  servile  condition,  the 
most  numerous  class  of  all.  The  survivors  of  the  middle 
class,  those  victims  of  the  imperial  taxation,  had  only  one 
desire :  not  to  be  exploited  any  longer  by  the  Romans.  It 
was  then  to  be  expected  that  barbarians  and  Romans 
would  come  together,  the  first  becoming  more  civilized, 
the  second  more  barbarous ;  they  would  fuse  and  find  a 
new  mode  of  life,  neither  Roman  nor  German. 


59 


Faith  and  Morals  of  the  Franks 

/ 

Adapted  from  E.  Lavisse:  Etudes  stir  Vhistoire  d' Allemagne, 
Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  March  15,  1886,  pp.  366-395. 

THE  backwardness  of  the  Church  in  the  Merovingian 
lands  is  well  attested,  and  one  of  the  chief  causes  was 
the  poor  organization  of  the  clergy.  In  this  particular  the 
Western  Church,  as  a  whole,  compared  very  unfavorably 
with  the  Eastern  Church,  where  the  Christian  communi¬ 
ties  had  been  grouped  together  by  their  bishops  in  the 
course  of  the  storms  of  persecution  and  heresy  which 
scourged  the  Church  of  the  second  and  third  centuries. 
Naturally,  this  grouping  followed  the  lines  of  the  state 
organization,  and  the  bishops  in  each  province  of  the  em¬ 
pire  established  the  custom  of  meeting  together  at  the 
principal  place  in  the  province,  the  metropolis,  and  con¬ 
ceded  to  the  metropolitan  bishop,  who  presided  over  their 
councils,  the  seniority  of  rank  of  a  primus  inter  pares.  In 
the  third  century  the  Roman  Empire  was  divided  into 
dioceses,  each  made  up  of  several  provinces.  In  the  East 
three  of  the  diocesan  capitals,  Constantinople,  Alexandria, 
and  Antioch,  became  the  capitals  of  ecclesiastical  areas 
known  as  patriarchates,  and  to  these  a  fourth,  Jerusalem, 
was  added,  because  of  its  holy  associations. 

While  the  East  was  thus  provided  with  great  churches, 
regularly  organized,  the  Christian  communities  of  the 

60 


Faith  and  Morals  of  the  Franks 

West  long  remained  few  and  obscure.  This  was  partly 
due  to  the  small  number  of  cities  of  marked  preeminence 
in  the  West.  The  Church  at  Rome  rose  to  the  first  rank, 
but  there  were  no  great  metropolitanates  under  it,  except 
in  Italy,  and  the  West  really  never  had  patriarchates; 
Gaul,  for  instance,  which  formed  a  diocese,  never  pos¬ 
sessed  a  patriarch. 

Gaul,  moreover,  was  rent  by  civil  and  social  wars  in  the 
third  century,  and  suffered  invasion  in  the  fourth.  As  a 
result,  the  imperial  framework  began  to  break  down  just 
when  the  Church  might  have  made  use  of  it,  and  in  its 
place  the  clergy  accepted  that  offered  by  the  barbarian 
kingdoms.  The  bishops  of  Gaul  did  keep  in  touch  with 
one  another,  and  thus  secured  the  strength  necessary  to 
defend  orthodoxy  against  their  heretical  masters,  but  the 
bishops  were  forced  to  group  themselves  by  kingdoms, 
and  not  by  ecclesiastical  provinces.  A  bishop  followed 
the  destiny  of  his  city ;  he  changed  his  sovereign  when 
he  passed  from  one  kingdom  to  another,  broke  off  regular 
relations  with  the  bishops  who  remained  the  subjects  of 
his  former  king,  and  ceased  to  sit  in  the  same  councils 
with  them.  After  Clovis  had  made  himself  master  of  a 
great  part  of  Gaul,  he  called  all  the  bishops  in  his  do¬ 
minions  together,  at  Orleans.  This  was  the  most  striking 
manifestation  of  his  power,  and  if  the  unity  of  the  king¬ 
dom  had  endured,  the  church  councils  would  have  been 
the  most  visible  expression  of  that  unity.  Perhaps  a  Gal¬ 
lic  Church  would  have  arisen,  like  the  Spanish  Church 
under  the  Visigoths,  with  the  bishop  of  the  capital  city  as 
its  chief.  But  the  Church  in  Gaul  followed  the  fortunes  of 
the  ever-changing  kingdoms,  and  the  churches  of  the 

61 


Medieval  Civilization 


different  sections- had  no  chiefs  but  the  kings,  who  were 
always  hostile  to  one  another.  In  the  sixth  century  a 
complete  transformation  took  place  in  the  personnel  and 
manners  of  the  clergy.  When  the  Franks  first  established 
themselves  in  the  land,  the  bishops  were  by  custom  drawn 
from  Roman  families,  and  the  bishop  resided  in  the  chief 
town  of  the  cizntas.  Soon,  however,  men  of  the  Frankish 
race  obtained  episcopal  offices.  They  loved  them  for  their 
prestige,  and  especially  for  their  wealth.  This  wealth 
grew  through  gifts,  acquisitions,  and  usurpations.  The 
episcopal  churches  became  great  landed  proprietors  and 
governed  whole  rural  communities,  while  the  bishops,  imi¬ 
tating  the  lay  lords,  took  up  their  residence  in  the  country. 
The  more  important  the  bishop’s  local  interests  grew,  the 
more  he  was  inclined  to  concentrate  his  attention  upon 
them.  As  a  result,  the  imperfect  hierarchy  of  sees  which 
had  begun  to  spring  up  in  Roman  times  withered  away. 
To  be  sure,  this  very  disorder  gave  the  bishop  of  Rome 
the  opportunity  to  make  his  authority  felt.  He  strove  to 
maintain  the  metropolitans,  and  to  keep  a  regular  repre¬ 
sentative  of  the  Holy  See  in  Gaul.  But,  though  the  au¬ 
thority  of  the  pontiff  was  recognized  in  matters  of  faith, 
and  the  primacy  of  the  See  of  Peter  respected,  the  pon¬ 
tifical  monarchy  was  not  yet  founded ;  the  pope  had  not 
acquired  the  regular  machinery  of  a  government,  and 
many  weighty  circumstances  stood  in  the  way  of  such  a 
consummation.  The  Gallo-Frankish  Church  was  aban¬ 
doned  to  anarchy ;  even  provincial  councils  ceased  to  meet, 
and  in  the  general  confusion  discipline  was  utterly  lost. 

The  Merovingian  Church  lacked  a  body,  the  point  of 
departure  from  which  the  soul  might  seek  tasks  and  set 

62 


Faith  and  Morals  of  the  Franks 


itself  duties,  of  which  the  most  visible  and  the  most  ur¬ 
gent  was  to  carry  the  Gospel  to  “  the  neighboring  peoples, 
still  plunged  in  the  barbarism  of  natural  ignorance.”  But 
it  is  not  always  the  strength  of  an  organism  which  pro¬ 
duces  its  force,  and  'powerlessness  does  not  necessarily 
result  from  anarchy.  The  Roman  Empire  was  never 
weaker  than  in  the  days  when  its  administrative  machine 
was  perfect  in  action,  and  the  Church  was  never  more 
active  than  it  was  at  the  beginning,  when  people  and 
clergy  together  formed  the  holy  priesthood  spoken  of  by 
the  apostle  Peter,  and  when  the  spirit  blew  where  it 
listed.  Did  the  Merovingian  Church,  which  lacked  laws 
and  government,  possess  vital  energy?  Was  it  capable  of 
producing  volunteers,  pioneers  of  faith?  Had  it  pre¬ 
served  the  spirit  of  proselytism  and  propaganda?  These 
are  the  questions  for  which  an  answer  must  now  be  sought. 

The  greatest  ecclesiastical  personage  of  Merovingian 
times  was  Bishop  Gregory  of  Tours  (died  594).  The 
dignity  of  his  life,  his  charity  and  goodness,  were  almost 
divine,  and  yet  there  were  pettinesses  in  his  spirit  and  an 
undeniable  disorder  in  his  conscience.  Gregory  had  good 
sense  and  even  acuteness;  his  judgment  was  good,  but 
his  education  deficient.  General  education,  which  is  so 
fruitful,  and  which  causes  intelligent  minds  to  reflect  the 
age  in  which  they  live,  was,  in  his  day,  detestable  and  in¬ 
jurious.  Gregory  had  no  philosophical  and  very  little 
literary  culture ;  he  knew  nothing  of  the  Greek  language, 
and  his  knowledge  of  Latin  was  very  faulty.  He  consoled 
himself,  it  is  true,  for  his  “  rusticity,”  with  the  thought 
that  it  made  him  intelligible  to  rustics,  and  we  willingly 
condone  his  solecisms  and  his  barbarisms.  They  are,  how- 

63 


Medieval  Civilization 


ever,  significant ;  they  reflect  the  disordered  institutions 
and  manners  of  his  time.  This  man,  who  did  not  under¬ 
stand  the  logic  of  syntax,  saw  the  interrelations  of  ideas 
confusedly  and  lost  the  proportion  of  things.  At  another 
epoch  he  might  have  been  a  writer  of  taste  and  wit ;  and 
if  he  stumbles  in  his  books,  if  he  leaves  off  when  he  should 
continue,  and  runs  on  when  he  should  stop,  if  he  virtually 
resembles  a  blind  man  trying  to  pick  his  way  with  his  cane, 
the  reason  is  that  the  good  sight  which  nature  gave  him 
was  ruined  by  the  surrounding  darkness.  History  knows 
many  such  cases. 

Gregory  was  able  to  distinguish  one  luminous  point, 
but  only  one,  and  that  was  orthodoxy.  He  concentrated 
the  strength  of  his  intellect  upon  it.  He  never  had  a  sus¬ 
picion  of  the  history  of  the  formation  of  dogma  and  the 
marvelous  adaptation  of  Christianity  to  the  intellectual 
condition  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  world;  all  that  was 
lost  in  the  darkness  of  night.  He  did  not  regret  his  igno¬ 
rance,  for  he  failed  to  perceive  it ;  orthodoxy  satisfied 
him  ;  it  was  to  him  the  absolute  rule  and  the  supreme  law. 
This  narrow  and  tranquil  faith  exercised  over  his  rea¬ 
son  and  conscience  the  pernicious  sway  of  a  fixed  idea, 
and,  joined  to  the  disorders  of  a  period  when  the  fre¬ 
quency  of  heinous  crimes  blunted  the  sensibilities,  it 
warped  his  natural  uprightness.  The  evil  influence  of  his 
environment  did  not  lead  him  to  commit  immoral  actions, 
but  to  pass  immoral  judgments.  He  was  a  good  man,  with 
much  delicate  tenderness  of  soul,  and  when  one  reads  in 
his  book,  full  as  it  is  of  perfidies,  villainies,  and  murders, 
of  the  ravages  of  the  pestilence  which  carried  off  “  the 
sweet  little  children  who  were  so  dear  to  him,  whom  he 

64 


Faith  and  Morals  of  the  Franks 

had  warmed  in  his  bosom,  borne  in  his  arms,  and  fed  with 
his  own  hands,”  one  is  profoundly  touched  to  come  upon 
a  man  and  humanity  amid  such  bandits  and  brigandage. 
None  of  the  manifestations  of  Christian  charity  were  lack¬ 
ing  in  the  life  of  Gregory ;  he  was  the  protector  of  the 
poor  and  the  helpless ;  he  forgave  his  enemies :  the  bishop 
who  slandered  him,  and  the  thieves  who  wished  to  stop 
him  on  a  highway,  and  whom  he  recalled  from  their 
flight  that  he  might  offer  them  a  cooling  draught.  He 
was  mild  toward  the  humble  and  proud  before  the  great. 
King  Chilperic  could  not  move  him  with  commands  or 
with  fawning,  when  he  wished  to  obtain  his  consent  to  the 
condemnation  of  Pretextatus,  bishop  of  Rouen,  and  threat¬ 
ened  to  raise  the  people  of  Tours  against  him.  Gregory 
made  answer  to  Chilperic  that  the  judgment  of  God  was 
suspended  over  his  head,  because  he  wished  to  violate  the 
canons.  Chilperic,  desiring  to  mollify  him,  invited  him 
to  dinner,  and  offered  him  a  dish  of  fowl  and  chick-peas 
which  he  had  specially  prepared  for  him ;  but  Gregory  re¬ 
plied,  with  that  solemn  naivete  which  the  consciousness 
of  his  high  dignity  and  the  use  of  ecclesiastical  language 
often  instilled  into  his  words,  “  It  is  my  food  and  drink  to 
do  the  will  of  God,  and  not  to  please  myself  with  such  deli¬ 
cacies.”  He  knew  full  well  the  danger  he  ran,  but  between 
martyrdom  and  disobedience  to  the  laws  of  God  and  the 
Church  he  would  not  have  hesitated  a  moment.  And  yet 
this  man  with  the  tender  heart  and  sensitive  conscience 
relates  terrible  crimes  without  flinching,  and  often  appa¬ 
rently  with  approbation.  Take  the  well-known  example 
where  Clovis,  in  order  to  gain  the  kingdom  of  Sigibert, 
committed  or  inspired  a  series  of  atrocious  murders. 

65 


Medieval  Civilization 

Gregory,  in  commenting  on  the  success  of  Clovis  in  gain¬ 
ing  the  kingdom,  remarks  sententiously,  “  For  God  caused 
the  king’s  enemies  to  fall  each  day  under  his  hand,  because 
he  walked  with  an  upright  heart  before  the  Lord,  and 
did  that  which  was  pleasing  in  His  sight.”  Gregory 
enumerates  other  murders,  committed  by  Clovis,  as  calmly 
as  if  he  were  reciting  a  litany.  How  is  this  apparent  con¬ 
tradiction  to  be  explained?  According  to  Gregory’s  cri¬ 
terion,  the  answer  is  simple.  All  are  of  upright  heart  who 
acknowledge,  all  are  perverse  who  deny,  the  Trinity, 
“  recognized  by  Moses  in  the  burning  bush,  followed  by 
the  people  in  the  cloud,  contemplated  with  terror  by  Israel 
upon  the  mountain,  prophesied  by  David  in  the  Psalms.” 
Gregory  never  wearies  in  repeating  that  heresy  itself 
insures  punishment  in  this  world  and  the  next,  and  in 
proof  he  cites  the  Arian  Alaric,  who  lost  at  the  same  time 
his  kingdom  and  life  eternal,  while  Clovis,  with  the  aid 
of  the  Trinity,  conquered  the  heretics  and  extended  the 
boundaries  of  his  kingdom  to  the  confines  of  Gaul.  Greg¬ 
ory  does  not  say  that  Clovis  enjoys  the  eternal  glories  of 
Paradise,  but  assuredly  he  never  dreamed  that  this  con¬ 
fessor  of  the  Trinity  could  be  relegated  to  hell,  with  the 
multitude  of  those  who  have  blasphemed. 

Next  to  orthodoxy,  the  principal  virtue  in  the  eyes  of 
Gregory  was  respect  for  the  orthodox  Church,  its  min¬ 
isters,  rights,  privileges,  and  property.  Woe  to  him  who 
violates  the  right  of  sanctuary  in  a  church !  The  saint  to 
whom  it  is  consecrated  does  not  tolerate  such  sacrilege ! 
A  man  pursued  his  slave  into  the  basilica  of  St.  Loup, 
seized  the  fugitive,  and  railed  at  him,  saying :  “  The  hand 
of  Loup  [wolf]  will  not  come  out  of  his  tomb  to  snatch 

66 


Faith  and  Morals  of  the  Franks 


you  from  my  hand.”  Immediately  the  tongue  of  the  bad 
jester  was  bound  by  the  power  of  God;  he  ran  howling 
through  the  whole  edifice,  no  longer  able  to  speak  the 
speech  of  man,  and  three  days  later  died  in  atrocious  tor¬ 
ments.  Woe  to  him  who  touches  the  property  of  the 
Church !  Nantinus,  count  of  Angouleme,  appropriated 
ecclesiastical  lands ;  fever  seized  him,  and  his  blackened 
body  looked  as  if  it  had  been  roasted  over  burning  coals. 
A  tax-official  took  possession  of  some  rams  belonging  to 
St.  Julian ;  the  shepherd  strove  to  protect  them,  and  said 
that  the  flock  was  the  property  of  the  martyr.  “  Do  you 
really  believe,”  said  the  facetious  official,  “  that  the  ever- 
blessed  St.  Julian  eats  ram’s  flesh?”  Fever  at  once  fas¬ 
tened  upon  him,  and  so  fierce  was  the  heat  of  it  that 
water  which  was  thrown  over  him  turned  to  steam  on 
contact  with  his  body.  Woe  to  him  who  disobeys  the  com¬ 
mands  of  the  Church !  A  peasant  going  to  church  saw 
a  herd  destroying  his  crop.  “  Alas,”  he  cried,  “  there ’s  a 
whole  year’s  labor  lost !  ”  He  seized  an  ax,  but  it  was 
Sunday,  and  the  hand  which  broke  the  law  of  Sabbath 
rest  suddenly  stiffened  with  a  terrible  grip  upon  the  ax, 
and  a  miracle,  vouchsafed  in  answer  to  tears  and  prayers, 
was  necessary  to  open  it. 

In  all  his  writings  Gregory  celebrates  the  power  of  the 
saints,  propitious  to  the  good  and  formidable  to  the 
wicked.  A  laborious  writer,  and  busy  upon  his  history  of 
the  Franks,  which  is  his  principal  work,  and  one  of  the 
most  curious  monuments  of  the  history  of  civilization, 
Gregory  had  always  upon  his  table  some  manuscript  in 
which  he  was  narrating  an  inexhaustible  series  of  miracles. 
He  had  a  particular  veneration  for  St.  Martin,  a  prede- 

6  7 


Medieval  Civilization 

cessor  in  the  see  of  Tours,  and  in  zealous  naivete  strove 
to  exalt  him  to  the  highest  ranks  of  the  celestial  hier¬ 
archy.  The  renown  of  St.  Martin  had  filled  the  whole 
world.  Already  Sulpicius  Severus  had  written  a  history 
of  Martin’'  preaching  and  miracles.  Gregory  continued 
it,  adding  chapter  after  chapter,  according  as  miracles  were 
added  to  miracles.  From  Martin’s  sacred  tomb,  Gregory 
viewed  the  world ;  after  the  fashion  of  Christian  writers, 
he  prefixed  to  his  history  of  the  Franks  a  universal  history, 
which  begins  with  the  creation  and  ends  with  the  death 
of  St.  Martin.  The  first  words  are,  “  In  the  beginning 
God  created  heaven  and  earth,”  and  the  last,  “  Here  ends 
the  first  book,  which  contains  5546  years,  from  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  the  world  to  the  passage  into  the  other  life  of  St. 
Martin  the  bishop.”  Throughout  the  recital  of  wars  and 
crimes,  Gregory  follows  the  miraculous  activity  of  the 
saint.  It  was  near  Tours  that  Clovis,  after  having  for¬ 
bidden,  as  the  gravest  of  crimes,  any  offense  to  St.  Mar¬ 
tin,  won  his  greatest  victory ;  it  was  there  that  he  received 
the  proconsular  insignia,  and  celebrated  his  triumph. 
Even  the  worst  of  the  kings  had  some  regard  for  St. 
Martin.  One  day  Chilperic  asked  counsel  of  him  through 
a  letter  deposited  on  his  tomb,  with  a  blank  leaf  for  the 
answer,  and  his  envoy  waited  thrje  days  in  vain  for  a  re¬ 
sponse  ;  the  leaf  remained  blank,  for  the  saint  reserved  his 
favors  for  those  who  honored  him  with  sincere  devotion. 
Gregory  did  not  doubt  that  his  patron  was  interested  in 
all  things,  great  and  small,  and  he  asked  of  him  protection, 
counsel,  and  aid  against  all  evils,  especially  sickness.  He 
was  cured  of  a  deadly  dysentery  by  drinking  an  infusion 
of  dust  gathered  from  the  saint’s  tomb ;  thrice  the  mere 

68 


Faith  and  Morals  of  the  Franks 


touching  of  the  tapestry  before  the  tomb  cured  him  of  pain 
in  the  temples ;  a  prayer,  made  while  he  was  kneeling  on 
the  ground,  with  mingled  tears  and  groans,  followed  by  a 
touch  given  the  tapestry,  dislodged  from  his  throat  a  fish¬ 
bone,  which  had  prevented  him  from  swallowing  even  his 
saliva,  and  caused  the  bone  miraculously  to  disappear. 
One  day  his  tongue  swelled  so  that  it  filled  his  mouth ; 
Gregory  licked  the  railing  of  the  tomb,  and  his  tongue  re¬ 
sumed  its  natural  size.  Nor  did  St.  Martin  disdain  curing 
even  the  toothache,  and  Gregory,  marveling,  cried  out : 
“  O  unspeakable  theriac !  ineffable  pigment !  admirable 
antidote !  celestial  purgative !  superior  to  all  the  skill  of 
physicians,  more  fragrant  than  aromatic  drugs,  stronger 
than  all  ointments  combined !  thou  cleanest  the  bowels  as 
well  as  scammony,  and  the  lungs  as  well  as  hyssop ;  thou 
cleanest  the  head  as  well  as  camomile !  ” 

Such  was  the  religion  of  Gregory  of  Tours.  To  be 
sure,  he  was  superior  to  this  religion  which  dominated  his 
spirit.  At  times  it  required  an  effort  to  break  free  and 
raise  himself  to  God ;  but  with  the  aid  of  the  saints  he 
succeeded.  He  had  a  very  beautiful  conception  of  the 
role  of  the  saints  in  the  world,  and  he  expressed  it  with 
eloquence  that  burns  with  sacred  inspiration :  “  The 
prophet-legislator,  after  relating  how  God  with  his  ma¬ 
jestic  right  hand  unfolded  the  heavens,  added :  And  God 
made  two  great  lights,  and  the  stars,  and  placed  them  in 
the  firmament  of  the  sky  that  they  might  preside  over  the 
day  and  the  night.  God  also  gave  to  the  sky  of  the  soul 
two  great  lights,  Christ  and  the  Church,  to  shine  in  the 
darkness  of  ignorance ;  also  the  stars,  which  are  the  patri¬ 
archs,  prophets,  and  apostles,  to  teach  us  their  doctrines, 

69  • 


Medieval  Civilization 

and  enlighten  us  by  their  marvelous  deeds.  In  their  school 
are  formed  these  men  whom  we  see,  like  unto  stars,  shin¬ 
ing  in  the  light  of  their  merits,  and  resplendent  with  the 
beauty  of  their  teaching ;  they  have  enlightened  the  world 
with  the  rays  of  their  preaching,  going  from  place  to  place 
preaching,  building,  and  consecrating  monasteries,  teach¬ 
ing  men  to  despise  earthly  cares  and  to  turn  from  the 
darkness  of  concupiscence  to  follow  the  true  God.”  By 
virtue  of  his  birth  and  education,  Gregory  knew  and 
loved  some  of  the  successors  of  the  patriarchs  and  the 
apostles.  He  belonged  to  a  family  of  saints.  His  mother’s 
great-grandfather  was  St.  Gregory,  bishop  of  Langres, 
who  “  had  for  son  and  successor  Tetricus,”  doubly  his 
successor,  since  he  was  both  bishop  of  Langres  and  saint. 
St.  Nicetius,  bishop  of  Lyons,  was  Gregory’s  maternal 
uncle,  and  Gregory,  when  a  child  and  learning  to  read, 
slept  with  the  venerable  old  man.  At  his  uncle’s  death, 
Gregory  received  a  precious  relic,  a  napkin  from  which 
detached  threads  were  sufficient  to  work  great  miracles. 
On  his  paternal  side,  Gregory  was  related  to  four  saints : 
St.  Gall,  bishop  of  Auvergne,  who  on  the  day  of  his 
burial  turned  on  his  bier  so  that  he  might  face  the  altar; 
St.  Lusor,  who,  one  night  when  the  clerks  were  leaning 
against  his  tomb,  shook  it  to  remind  them  of  the  reverence 
due  to  him;  Leocadius,  citizen  of  Bourges, who, while  still 
a  pagan,  welcomed  in  his  house  the  first  missionaries  of 
Berry;  and  Vettius  Epagathus,  one  of  the  martyrs  of 
Lyons  in  the  second  century.  Thus  Gregory  could  trace 
back  his  ancestry  by  an  uninterrupted  chain  of  saints  to 
the  day  when  Christianity  was  preached  in  Gaul.  Through 
them,  he  touched  the  apostles,  the  patriarchs,  the  prophets, 

70 


Faith  and  Morals  of  the  Franks 


and  the  creation.  The  “  world  of  the  soul,”  as  he  called 
it,  appeared  to  him  under  exact  forms ;  his  faith  required 
these  quasi-material  representations ;  but,  however  crude 
his  faith  may  have  been,  it  transported  him  beyond  the 
miseries  which  he  saw  around  him ;  it  caused  him  to  live 
in  an  enchanted  world,  all-pervaded  by  the  divine,  and  it 
was  but  right  that,  after  his  death,  this  companion  of  celes¬ 
tial  beings  was  recognized  as  a  saint,  for  the  Church  in 
beatifying  him  only  left  him,  where  he  had  lived,  among 
the  saints. 

Gregory  was  an  exception  in  the  Merovingian  Church, 
and  to  study  the  action  of  this  Church  upon  the  peoples  of 
Gaul,  it  is  necessary  to  strip  away  from  the  religion  of  the 
bishop  of  Tours  the  features  which  embellish  it.  It  is 
needful,  also,  to  place  beside  him,  and  some  good  and 
saintly  bishops  like  him,  those  uncouth  ecclesiastics  whose 
vices  and  crimes  he  narrates :  men  like  Nonius,  bishop 
of  Vannes,  a  drunkard  who,  one  day,  in  the  midst  of  the 
mass,  roared  like  a  beast,  and  fell  bleeding  at  the  mouth 
and  nose ;  men  like  Bertram  and  Palladius,  who  quarreled 
at  the  table  of  Gundobald,  and  taunted  each  other  with 
their  adulteries  and  perjuries,  to  the  great  joy  of  the  ban¬ 
queters,  who  laughed  till  they  choked ;  men  like  Salonius 
and  Sagittarius,  who  went  to  war  with  helmet  and  cuirass, 
and  followed,  during  times  of  peace,  the  trade  of  high¬ 
waymen,  attacking  even  churchmen.  These  incorrigible 
brigands  were  deposed  by  a  council,  but  were  reinstated, 
were  imprisoned  by  Guntram  in  a  monastery,  and  then 
liberated,  so  great  was  the  indulgence  for  the  crimes  of 
bishops.  They  played  the  comedy  of  penitence,  scattering 
alms,  fasting,  psalm-singing  night  and  day,  then  returning 

71 


Medieval  Civilization 

to  their  habitual  ways, — that  is  to  say,  drinking  the  night 
long,  while  matins  were  being  sung  rising  from  the  table 
at  dawn  to  break  the  seventh  commandment ;  rising  about 
nine  o’clock  to  bathe,  they  again  sat  down  to  the  table, 
which  they  did  not  leave  until  evening.  We  must  compare 
with  Gregory  men  like  Badegysil  of  Mans,  who  “  never 
allowed  a  day  or  even  an  hour  to  pass  without  some  act  of 
brigandage,”  and  Pappolus  of  Langres,  whose  iniquities 
were  so  monstrous  that  Gregory,  who  was  not  fastidious, 
refused  to  commit  them  to  paper.  By  the  side  of  these 
princes  of  the  secular  church,  one  might  name  this  or  that 
abbot  who  was  an  assassin  and  adulterer,  a  hermit  who 
received  from  the  faithful  a  gift  of  wine  and,  deep  in  his 
cups,  played  havoc  with  sticks  and  stones  until  chained  in 
his  cell ;  and,  finally,  Chrodechildis,  a  Merovingian  prin¬ 
cess,  who  had  become  a  nun  of  the  convent  of  St.  Rade- 
gundis,  and  now  rose  against  her  abbess.  In  vain  did 
Gregory  remind  her  that  the  canons  struck  with  excom¬ 
munication  the  nun  who  left  the  cloister.  She  went  to  her 
uncle,  King  Guntram,  and  secured  a  commission  of  bish¬ 
ops  to  examine  her  grievances.  On  her  return  to  Poitiers, 
she  found  the  convent  in  great  disorder,  and  several  of 
her  companions  married.  Fearful  of  episcopal  condemna¬ 
tion,  she  armed  a  band  of  rascals.  The  bishops  came  and 
excommunicated  the  mutineers,  but  they  were  at  once  be¬ 
sieged  in  a  church  by  the  latter,  and  only  escaped  after 
receiving  many  hard  blows.  In  turn,  the  abbess,  who  had 
been  driven  away,  armed  her  servants.  Poitiers  fell  a 
prey  to  civil  war ;  “  not  a  day  without  a  murder,  not  an 
hour  without  a  quarrel,  not  a  minute  without  tears.”  At 
last  the  two  kings,  Childebert  and  Guntram,  took  joint 

72 


Faith  and  Morals  of  the  Franks 


action  against  the  women,  and  a  count  captured  the  con¬ 
vent  by  storm ;  a  church  council  condemned  the  insur¬ 
gents  to  do  penance,  but  Childebert  obtained  their  pardon. 
Such  scandals  show  the  sort  of  associates  Gregory  had, 
and  explain,  in  part,  the  inability  of  the  Merovingian 
Church  to  reform  the  morals  of  Franks  and  Romans.  It 
would,  however,  be  a  superficial  judgment  to  attribute  the 
moral  disorder  of  Merovingian  society  to  the  unworthi¬ 
ness  of  the  clergy,  for  this  unworthiness  was  not  a  cause, 
but  rather  a  consequence  of  the  corruption  of  Christianity 
by  a  gross  and  ignorant  people. 

But  the  divine  spark  survived  in  the  Gallic  Church  as  in 
the  conscience  of  Gregory.  Unworthy  as  many  of  the 
ecclesiastics  were,  the  Church  none  the  less  exercised  high 
jurisdiction  on  behalf  of  humanity.  She  was  the  legal 
protector  of  unfortunates.  The  bishop  had  charge  of  the 
cases  of  widows  and  orphans ;  he  clothed  and  fed  the 
poor;  he  had  the  archdeacon  visit  prisoners  every  Sun¬ 
day,  and  gave  asylum  to  the  outcast  lepers.  Church 
councils  protected  the  slave,  whose  lot  was  worse  in  sixth- 
century  Gaul  than  it  had  been  in  ancient  Germany,  or  in 
Rome  under  the  beneficent  imperial  legislation.  The 
Church  forbade  the  Frankish  barbarians  to  kill  their 
slaves,  to  sell  them  outside  the  province  in  which  they 
lived,  or  to  separate  the  man  and  wife  whom  she  had 
joined  together  in  the  name  of  God.  She  did  more.  She 
proclaimed  the  equality  of  master  and  slave  in  the  sight 
of  God.  Developing  the  idea  of  the  later  Roman  law, 
which  ordered  that  enfranchisement  might  take  place  in  a 
church,  she  included  the  liberation  of  the  slave  among  the 
works  of  piety,  and  the  laws  themselves  assured  the  master 

73 


Medieval  Civilization 


who  freed  his  slave  that  he  should  receive  his  recompense 
in  the  future  life  in  the  presence  of  the  Lord.  The  Church 
treated  her  own  serfs  humanely  and,  good  proprietor  that 
she  was,  made  their  lot  endurable,  and  the  number  of  the 
unfortunates  who  sought  shelter  with  her  proves  their 
appreciation  of  the  truth  which  a  later  age  embodied  in 
the  proverb,  “  It  is  a  good  thing  to  live  under  the  cross.” 

True,  the  Church  accepted  many  barbarous  customs 
like  the  ordeal  and  the  judicial  duel,  and  justified  their 
use  from  Holy  Writ  (Lot  saved  from  the  fire  of  Sodom, 
Noah  from  the  waters,  and  David’s  duel  with  Goliath). 
On  the  other  hand,  her  humanizing  influence  checked  the 
miseries  of  private  war,  and  taught  the  barbarians  un¬ 
known  ideas  through  her  horror  of  bloodshed :  Ecclesia 
abhorret  a  sanguine.  To  criminals  or  unfortunates  men¬ 
aced  with  just  or  unjust  punishment  she  offered  sanc¬ 
tuary,  defending  them,  not  against  a  regular  trial,  but 
against  immediate  violence.  If  slaves  fled  from  the  fury 
of  their  master,  she  bound  him  to  forgive  them.  Two 
slaves  of  Rauching,  threatened  with  punishment  for  mar¬ 
rying  against  his  will,  took  refuge  at  the  foot  of  the  altar. 
Rauching  demanded  that  they  be  delivered  to  him,  and 
received  them  only  on  his  promise  never  to  separate  them. 
He  chained  them  together  and  gave  them  living  sepulchre 
in  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  exclaiming :  “  I  keep  my  word ;  be¬ 
hold  them  forever  united !  ”  The  priest  heard  of  it,  and 
demanded  their  liberation.  He  saved  the  man,  but  the 
woman  was  already  dead. 

Thus  the  Church  spoke  words  of  gentleness  and  com¬ 
passion,  preserved  the  sentiment  of  pity  in  an  age  of  vio¬ 
lence,  wiped  away  many  a  tear,  and  saved  human  flesh 

74 


Faith  and  Morals  of  the  Franks 

from  torture.  She  reminded  the  barbarians  that  they  had 
souls  which  sin  imperiled.  Remedy  of  the  soul ,  is  the 
beneficent  phrase  to  be  found  in  the  charters  of  donation. 
The  method  generally  employed  to  make  the  remedy  sure 
was  liberality  toward  the  Church.  But  what  of  that? 
The  Church  alone  knew  how  to  employ  wealth,  and  the 
fact  that  the  remedy  was  often  the  freeing  of  slaves,  or  the 
endowment  of  a  charitable  foundation,  of  itself  secures 
the  gratitude  of  humanity  for  those  who  discovered  the 
words  remedium  animce.  But  these  words  also  reveal  the 
secret  of  Merovingian  religion — its  selfishness  and  self- 
interest,  its  calculation,  its  ready  satisfaction  with  external 
practices,  and  its  confusion  of  the  pious  act  with  piety. 
The  Frankish  nation  had  the  idea  that  it  was  bound  to 
God  by  a  contract  which  established  reciprocal  duties. 
“  Long  live  the  Christ  who  loves  the  Franks,”  is  in  a  pro¬ 
logue  of  the  Salic  Law.  The  Franks  believed  themselves 
possessed  of  rights  by  virtue  of  their  love  for  Christ,  be¬ 
cause  they  were  the  people  who  “  recognized  the  sanctity 
of  baptism  and  adorned  sumptuously  the  bodies  of  the 
martyrs  with  gold  and  precious  stones.”  To  be  baptized, 
to  provide  tombs  and  shrines  for  the  relics  of  the  saints, 
to  build  and  enrich  churches,  made  one  a  creditor  of  God, 
and  such  an  one  might,  without  fear,  present  himself  at 
the  last  judgment  and  say,  as  we  may  read  in  a  sermon 
attributed  to  St.  Eloi :  “  Give,  Lord,  since  we  have 
given!  Da,  D online,  quia  dedimus!  ”  Men  believed  that 
there  was  for  sins  a  fixed  compensation,  comparable  to 
the  wergild. 

The  greatest  mark  of  the  impiety  of  these  pagans, 
dressed  in  the  externals  of  Christianity,  was  their  reduc- 

75 


Medieval  Civilization 

tion  of  God  and  His  saints  to  the  level  of  forces  which 
man  might  subjugate  and  employ  as  desired.  They  made 
continual  offers  of  exchange.  The  wife  of  a  sacrilegious 
man  who  had  been  struck  with  a  terrible  disease  for  blas¬ 
pheming  a  saint  asked  the  saint  to  cure  him,  and  placed 
presents  in  his  church.  The  sick  man  died,  and  the  widow 
took  back  the  gifts,  for  they  had  been  conditional.  A  child 
died.  The  grandmother  carried  the  body  into  a  church 
dedicated  to  St.  Martin,  in  which  were  relics  brought  by 
her  family  from  Tours.  She  explained  to  the  saint  why 
her  relatives  had  made  such  a  long  journey  to  procure  the 
relics,  and  she  threatened  that  if  he  did  not  bring  back 
the  dead  to  life,  she  would  never  more  bow  head  before 
him,  or  lighten  the  darkness  of  his  church  with  tapers. 
Even  the  priests  assumed  to  constrain  their  saints.  One 
of  King  Sigibert’s  officers  had  seized  property  belonging 
to  the  church  at  Aix.  The  bishop  addressed  his  patron 
saint  as  follows :  “  Most  glorious  one,  there  will  be  no 
more  burning  of  tapers  or  chanting  of  psalms  here  until 
you  avenge  your  servants  upon  their  enemies,  and  recover 
for  Holy  Church  the  property  stolen  from  you.”  Then  he 
placed  thorn-bushes  on  the  saint’s  tomb  and  on  the  portals 
of  the  church.  Saints  brought  to  the  bar  of  justice  in  this 
way  yielded :  St.  Martin  brought  the  corpse  to  life,  and 
St.  Metrias  punished  the  despoiler  with  death.  The 
Church  related  these  miracles  from  the  pulpit,  and  priestly 
pens  preserved  the  memory  of  them.  Was  it  strange  that 
simple  souls  believed  that  the  venal  power  of  celestial 
beings  might  be  employed  for  evil  purposes?  Mummolus, 
a  Roman,  learned  that  an  old  Syrian  merchant  at  Bor¬ 
deaux,  Euphronius  by  name,  possessed  relics  of  St.  Ser- 

76 


Faith  and  Morals  of  the  Franks 


gius.  It  was  commonly  believed  that  an  Eastern  king  who 
had  fastened  a  thumb  of  this  saint  to  his  right  arm  could 
put  his  enemies  to  flight  merely  by  raising  his  arm.  Mum- 
molus  went  to  Euphronius  and,  despite  the  old  man’s 
prayers  and  offer  of  one  hundred  and  then  two  hundred 
pieces  of  gold  to  be  left  in  peace,  had  a  deacon,  whom  he 
had  brought  along,  open  the  reliquary,  and  with  a  knife 
he  took  and  broke,  in  three  pieces,  a  finger  of  the  saint. 
Then,  after  praying,  he  carried  off  one  piece.  “  I  do 
not  think,”  Gregory  says,  “  that  the  deed  was  pleasing  to 
the  ever-blessed  one.”  That,  however,  was  the  least  of 
the  cares  of  Mummolus ;  he  believed  that  he  had  made 
compensation  to  the  saint  with  his  genuflections  and  pray¬ 
ers,  and  never  doubted  the  efficacy  of  his  talisman.  Chil- 
peric  had  the  same  idea  when  he  seized  Paris,  notwith¬ 
standing  his  promises  to  his  brothers ;  when  he  entered 
the  city  he  caused  relics  to  be  borne  before  him  to  shelter 
him  from  all  evil  consequences.  Fredegundis  did  still 
better.  When  she  hired  two  assassins  to  murder  Sigibert, 
she  said  to  them :  “  If  you  return  alive,  I  shall  honor 
you  and  yours ;  if  you  perish,  I  shall  scatter  alms  on  your 
behalf  in  the  places  where  the  saints  are  honored.”  In 
either  case  their  reward  would  be  secure. 

Gregory  acquaints  us  with  a  number  of  personages 
whose  words  he  repeats  and  whose  least  actions  he  re¬ 
lates  ;  thanks  to  him,  we  know  them  intimately.  Was 
there  among  them  one  man  whom  we  can  call  a  Christian  ? 
Was  Guntram,  that  man  “  of  admirable  sagacity,”  who 
looked  “  not  only  like  a  king,  but  like  a  priest  of  the 
Lord  ”  ?  Even  in  his  lifetime  he  performed  miracles.  A 
poor  woman,  whose  son  was  dying,  one  day  stole  through 

77 


Medieval  Civilization 

the  crowd  to  Guntram,  detached  some  of  the  fringe  from 
his  clothing,  steeped  it  in  a  cup  of  water,  and  gave  it  to 
the  sick  one,  who  was  healed.  What  sort  of  Christian  was 
this  miracle-worker?  He  took  pleasure  in  the  society  of 
concubines,  and  committed  some  atrocious  deeds.  At 
the  death  of  one  of  his  wives,  he  killed  the  two  physicians 
who  had  bled  her  in  vain.  One  day,  while  hunting  in  the 
Vosges,  he  came  across  a  slain  animal ;  he  interrogated 
the  game-keepers,  and  they  charged  the  chamberlain, 
Chundo,  with  the  deed.  The  latter  denied  the  deed,  and 
a  judicial  duel  was  ordered.  Two  champions  were 
chosen,  and  Chundo,  seeing  that  the  day  was  going  against 
his  champion,  fled  toward  the  sanctuary.  Guntram  di¬ 
vined  his  intentions,  and  cried  out  that  he  should  be 
stopped  before  he  reached  the  sacred  portal.  He  was 
caught,  and  at  once  stoned  to  death.  This  prince  fre¬ 
quently  committed  perjury,  and  no  one’s  word  was  less 
to  be  relied  on  than  his ;  but,  all  in  all,  he  was  less  wicked 
than  the  other  kings,  and  he  had  ecclesiastical  tastes.  He 
enjoyed  the  company  of  bishops,  and  visited  and  dined 
with  them.  He  loved  religious  ceremonies,  upon  which 
the  Church  relied  to  captivate  the  barbarians,  who,  in  the 
dazzling  splendor  of  the  lights,  breathing  full  breaths  of 
the  perfumes,  hearing  the  chants  of  the  priests,  and  buried 
in  meditation  by  the  celebration  of  the  mysteries,  believed 
themselves  transported  to  Paradise.  The  “  good  king  ” 
Guntram  had  another  virtue,  respect  for  the  person  of  a 
bishop.  And  it  is  not  surprising.  Among  other  experi¬ 
ences,  once,  when  he  shut  up  two  bishops  in  a  convent, 
that  they  might  do  penance,  his  son  immediately  fell  sick, 
and  his  servants  begged  him  to  liberate  the  bishops  lest 

78 


Faith  and  Morals  of  the  Franks 

his  son  should  die.  “  Let  them  out,”  he  cried,  “  that  they 
may  pray  for  my  little  children.”  To  be  sure,  he  knew 
full  well  that  the  bishops  were  bandits,  but  he  feared  the 
sacred  character  with  which  they  were  clothed ;  he  expe¬ 
rienced  that  species  of  terror  inspired  by  priests  of  every 
age  in  simple  people  of  every  land.  This  was  the  Gun- 
tram  who  passed  for  a  good  Christian,  priest,  and  saint. 

Why  were  not  these  men  Christians?  They  were  not 
Christians  because  the  Gallo-Frankish  Church  was  no 
longer  able  to  transmit  Christianity.  Shut  up  in  an  un¬ 
yielding  literal  orthodoxy ;  ignorant,  and  at  the  same  time 
sure  of  herself,  she  no  longer  knew  how  to  penetrate  into 
the  soul  of  the  pagan,  study  it,  analyze  its  beliefs  and 
religious  sentiments,  and  discover  the  instruction  needful 
to  its  condition.  How  could  a  man  like  Clovis  have  been 
transformed  into  a  Christian  ?  It  would  have  been  neces¬ 
sary  to  recover  the  idea  of  the  supreme  God  in  the  religion 
of  the  Germans  from  out  the  crowd  of  genii,  and  above 
the  great  figures  which  represented  the  ideas  of  love,  the 
fruitfulness  of  the  earth,  and  the  powerfulness  of  the  sun ; 
it  would  have  been  necessary  to  emphasize  the  German 
feeling  of  the  fragility  of  this  life  placed  between  the  day 
and  the  night,  to  employ  the  popular  myths  of  gods  who 
have  lived  among  men,  and  thus  to  start  with  Odin  and 
arrive  at  Christ.  In  this  way,  the  Church  might  have 
wrought  such  a  change  in  a  warrior,  a  son  of  warriors  and 
of  gods,  a  haughty  man  who  loved  force  alone,  a  violent 
man  who  could  but  hate  and  for  whom  the  right  of  ven¬ 
geance  was  a  regulated  institution,  that  he  would  bow 
his  head  before  the  God  who  chose  to  be  born  among  the 
wretched,  and  to  die  an  ignominious  death  in  order  to 

79 


Medieval  Civilization 


teach,  by  the  example  of  his  charity  toward  humanity,  the 
duty  of  every  man  to  be  charitable. 

To  offer  Clovis  Christianity  was  really  to  demand  the 
transformation  of  his  whole  being.  If  we  may  accept 
Gregory’s  statement,  when  Clovis  hesitated  to  recognize 
the  Crucified  as  the  Master  of  the  world,  and  reproached 
his  wife  with  “  adoring  a  god  who  was  not  of  the  race 
of  gods,”  Clotilda  charged  him  with  venerating  idols  and 
adoring  Jupiter,  who  had  besmirched  human  beings  with 
his  love  and  had,  according  to  Vergil,  married  his  own  sis¬ 
ter.  Clovis  had  no  idols ;  he  did  not  know  Jupiter  or  Juno, 
and  consequently  did  not  understand  the  superannuated 
dialectic  which  had  formerly  served  against  the  pagans  of 
Athens  and  Rome,  and  which  the  Church  had  not  taken 
the  trouble  to  renovate.  Clovis’s  answers  show  that  he 
did  not  grasp  his  wife’s  meaning.  When  his  troops  were 
giving  way  on  the  field  of  battle,  he  thought  of  Clotilda’s 
god,  not  to  recall  the  childish  theology  which  she  had 
taught  him,  but  to  invite  the  Christ  to  exhibit  His 
strength :  “  Clotilda  says  that  Thou  art  the  Son  of  the 
living  God,  and  that  Thou  dost  give  victory  to  those  who 
put  their  trust  in  Thee.  I  have  besought  my  gods,  but 
they  gave  me  no  aid.  I  see  well  that  their  strength  is 
naught.  I  beseech  Thee,  and  I  will  believe  in  Thee,  only 
save  me  from  the  hands  of  my  enemies !  ”  Clovis  insti¬ 
tuted  a  sort  of  judicial  duel  between  the  Christ  and  his 
gods,  and  when  Christ  showed  Himself  the  stronger,  he 
adored  Him,  not  because  He  was  born  in  a  manger  and 
died  upon  the  cross,  but  because  He  had  broken  the  head 
of  his  (Clovis’s)  enemies. 

It  matters  little  whether  Gregory’s  account  of  the  con- 

80 


Faith  and  Morals  of  the  Franks 

version  of  Clovis  is  strictly  accurate  or  not ;  the  account 
makes  it  plain  that  one  of  the  best  and  most  enlightened 
bishops  of  Gaul  did  not  even  dream  that  it  was  needful 
to  create  a  special  method  of  preaching  for  pagan  Ger¬ 
mans.  This  is,  in  itself,  the  clearest  possible  proof  of  the 
intellectual  inertness  of  the  Church  at  this  time.  And 
this  inertness  was  the  main  cause  of  its  powerlessness, 
just  as  the  intellectual  energy  of  the  first  centuries  had 
been  the  main  cause  of  its  victories  over  Greek  and  Roman 
paganism.  Alertness  of  mind  persisted  during  the  strug¬ 
gle  against  heresies,  for  heresy  struggles  are  a  species  of 
civil  war ;  and  as  civil  war  withdraws  attention  from  ex¬ 
terior  foes,  so  the  war  against  the  heretic  caused  the  pagan 
to  be  forgotten.  When  the  Church  had  won  the  battle 
against  heresy,  did  she  recall  the  continued  existence  of 
the  Gentiles  and  her  mission  to  carry  on  the  work  of  the 
apostles?  She  did  not,  for  in  the  struggle  against  heresy 
she  had  suffered  severe  losses.  She  had  lost  those  instru¬ 
ments  of  ancient  wisdom  which  had  enabled  her  to  raise 
the  edifice  of  dogma.  The  edifice  remained,  but  it  was 
isolated  and  gloomy  in  the  night  which  descended  upon 
the  world  after  the  extinction  of  ancient  civilization.  The 
priest  no  longer  sought  free  acceptance  of  the  faith  by 
the  intellect,  but  imposed  a  doctrine  reduced  to  formulas, 
whose  history  he  did  not  know,  which  he  did  not  compre¬ 
hend,  and  which  he  did  not  strive  to  have  comprehended 
by  converts.  While  the  intellect  of  the  Christian  was  thus 
made  void,  his  conscience  was  weighed  down  with  the 
grossest  superstitions.  He  was  so  busied  with  a  multi¬ 
tude  of  small  duties,  so  tied  down  by  the  bonds  of  a  com¬ 
plicated  devotion,  that  he  did  all  that  could  be  expected 

81 


Medieval  Civilization 


of  him  when  he  attended  to  his  own  salvation  and  set 
himself  right  with  the  priests  and  the  saints.  Church  and 
church  members,  arrested  on  the  field  of  their  first  vic¬ 
tories,  were  powerless  to  make  conquests  outside  of  Greek 
and  Roman  lands.  The  bishops  called  themselves  the 
successors  of  the  apostles,  and  still  repeated,  from  time 
to  time,  the  words  of  the  Evangelist,  “  Go  and  teach  the 
nations,”  but  they  were  powerless  to  obey,  for  their  in¬ 
telligence  was  no  longer  high  enough  and  their  hearts 
were  not  pure  enough  for  the  task. 

The  Merovingian  clergy,  far  from  spreading  Christian¬ 
ity  beyond  the  Roman  frontiers  it  had  attained  in  the 
fourth  century,  did  not  even  win  back  all  the  territory 
it  had  lost  through  the  German  invasions.  The  north 
and  east  of  Gaul,  the  cantons  of  the  Rhine,  Meuse,  and 
Scheldt,  were  full  of  pagans.  In  vain  did  the  kings  of 
Austrasia  call  themselves  sons  of  the  Church  and  pro¬ 
scribe  paganism  in  their  laws.  They  were  themselves 
constrained  to  recognize  it.  One  day,  St.  Waast  went 
with  King  Chlotar  to  a  banquet  given  by  a  Frankish  war¬ 
rior.  He  saw  on  the  table  vessels  full  of  beer  which  had 
been  blessed  for  the  Christian  banqueters,  and  others 
which  had  been  made  ready  for  the  pagans.  King  Theu- 
debert  is  praised  by  Gregory  for  his  piety,  and  he  posed 
as  a  champion  of  Catholicism,  and  from  time  to  time 
spoke  like  a  crusader ;  and  yet,  when  he  marched  into 
Italy  against  the  Goths  and  Byzantines,  and  his  army  came 
to  the  banks  of  the  Po,  the  soldiers  threw  the  bodies  of 
women  and  children  into  the  river,  in  order  to  win,  by 
human  sacrifices,  the  favor  of  the  gods  of  war.  Dago- 
bert  honored  the  saints  and  the  martyrs,  and  filled  the 

82 


Faith  and  Morals  of  the  Franks 


monastery  of  St.  Denis  with  his  gifts ;  but  on  an  expedi¬ 
tion  into  Germany  he  was  accompanied  by  pagans.  If 
paganism  thus  showed  itself  in  the  intimacy  of  kings  who 
were  always  surrounded  by  bishops,  it  must  have  been 
much  more  living  and  active  among  the  people,  for  the 
churches  were  then  very  few  in  number,  and  peasants 
might  live  and  die  without  ever  setting  eyes  upon  a  priest. 

In  the  sixth  century  there  was  a  sort  of  renaissance  of 
Christianity  along  the  banks  of  the  Rhine.  Bishops  re¬ 
built  the  churches  at  Treves,  Mainz,  Cologne,  and  Metz, 
and  the  poet  Venantius  Fortunatus  praises  them  for  re¬ 
storing  the  temples  of  God.  Thus  the  ancient  frontier 
was  touched,  but  beyond  it  paganism  ruled.  The  Frank¬ 
ish  Church  was  not  disturbed  or  offended  at  its  proximity. 
The  only  missionary  work  attempted  was  by  St.  Eloi  and 
St.  Amand,  who  preached  between  the  Scheldt  and  the 
Meuse  in  the  middle  of  the  seventh  century.  A  few 
leagues  from  the  royal  villas  of  Neustria  these  mission¬ 
aries  encountered  men  who  were  struck  with  the  novelty 
of  their  discourses  on  the  one  God,  creator  of  heaven  and 
earth. 

The  conclusive  demonstration  of  the  powerlessness  of 
the  Merovingian  Church  is  this,  that  the  first  great  mis¬ 
sionaries  to  Germany  came  from  distant  Ireland,  and  not 
from  neighboring  Gaul.  The  history  of  the  Irish  Church 
is  the  antithesis  of  that  of  Gaul.  Christianity  was 
preached  in  Ireland  in  the  fifth  century  by  St.  Patrick, 
and  spread  rapidly  among  a  homogeneous  population  in¬ 
habiting  a  narrow  territory.  Ireland  was  never  a  Roman 
province,  and  therefore  the  Irish  Church  did  not  adopt 
the  Roman  state  organization.  The  patriarchal  govern- 

83 


Medieval  Civilization 

ment  of  the  clan  chiefs  had  nothing  in  common  with  the 
complex,  confused,  and  care-encumbered  government  of 
the  Merovingians,  and  the  Irish  prelates  did  not  compro¬ 
mise  their  morals  and  their  authority  in  the  corruptness  of 
courts.  The  victory  of  Christianity  was  a  purely  moral 
one,  and  so  there  was  no  rupture  or  antagonism  between 
past  and  present ;  the  Irish  Celts  brought  with  them,  in 
their  conversion,  their  natural  poetry,  their  legends,  im¬ 
aginativeness,  and  taste  for  distant  adventures.  In  the 
fifth  century  the  conquest  of  Britain  by  the  heathen  An¬ 
glo-Saxons  cut  them  off  from  the  continental  churches 
and  left  them  to  their  own  natural  genius.  It  is  not  true 
that  they  ever  claimed  to  live  apart  in  Catholicity,  or  be¬ 
lieved  that  their  Church  was  to  be  traced  back  directly  to 
the  apostles  and  to  Christ,  or  that  they  denied  respect  and 
obedience  to  the  See  of  Peter ;  but  it  is  true  that  the 
Irish  Church  had  more  independence  and  liberty  than  the 
other  churches,  and  that  it  kept  and  defended  with  energy 
certain  peculiar  usages  of  its  own.  It  had  not  the  dis¬ 
cipline  of  the  Western  Church  which,  however  imperfect, 
distinguished  between  the  secular  and  the  regular  clergy, 
and  made  the  bishop  the  chief  qf  his  clergy,  the  protector 
and  supervisor  of  the  monks,  and  the  principal  personage 
of  the  Church,  clothed  with  all  the  attributes  of  official 
authority.  In  Ireland,  secular  and  regular  clergy  were 
blended ;  the  abbots  of  the  large  monasteries  were  also 
bishops ;  laymen  and  clergy  were  scarcely  to  be  distin¬ 
guished  from  one  another,  for  many  whole  families  lived 
in  the  monasteries,  which  were  real  cities,,  inhabited  by 
several  thousands  of  souls.  Lastly,  while  ancient  learning 
was  perishing  in  Gaul,  the  monasteries  of  Ireland  were 

84 


Faith  and  Morals  of  the  Franks 


great  schools,  in  which  the  Scriptures  and  profane  letters 
were  studied  with  equal  zeal. 

For  all  these  reasons  the  Irish  Church  had  a  very  free 
and  active  life,  and  a  force  of  expansion  which  exhibited 
itself  in  missions  to  Germany.  The  most  illustrious  of 
these  missionaries  were  St.  Columban,  founder  of  the 
monastery  of  Luxeuil  in  Burgundy,  St.  Gall,  founder  of 
the  monastery  of  St.  Gall  in  Allemania,  St.  Kilian,  who 
achieved  martyrdom  at  Wurzburg  in  Thuringia,  and  Vir- 
gilius,  who  was  bishop  of  Salzburg  in  Bavaria.  These 
were  veritable  apostles  and  benefactors  of  the  countries 
in  which  they  preached  the  Gospel.  They  possessed  sin¬ 
gular  originality.  Columban  was  an  ascetic,  who  was  very 
hard  on  himself  and  others.  He  wrote  a  very  strict  rule 
for  his  monasteries.  The  same  man  sent  a  friend  pretty 
little  verses,  which  he  had  composed  “  in  the  measure 
which  Sappho,  the  illustrious  poet,  employed  for  her  melo¬ 
dious  poems.”  In  them  he  sings  of  the  vanity  and  danger 
of  riches,  attested  by  the  golden  fleece  which  caused  so 
many  woes,  by  the  apple  of  gold  which  disturbed  the  ban¬ 
quet  of  the  gods,  the  golden  rain  which  corrupted  Danae, 
the  collar  of  gold  for  which  Amphiaraiis  was  sold  by  his 
wife,  and  so  on ;  for  Columban  knew  his  mythology  as 
well  as  he  did  the  Scriptures.  This  disciple  of  Sappho 
had  the  grandeur  of  a  saint  in  the  desert,  certain  of  his 
virtue,  confident  in  God,  and  scorning  all  the  magnificence 
of  the  world.  In  correspondence  with  the  bishops  of  the 
Frankish  Church,  he  repelled  the  accusation  of  error  and 
heresy  which  they  had  made  against  him,  and  exhorted 
them,  as  one  fitted  so  to  do,  to  obey  the  canons  and  per¬ 
form  the  duties  of  their  office.  He  reproached  King 

85 


Medieval  Civilization 


Theuderich  of  Burgundy  with  his  debauchery,  and  urged 
him  to  put  away  his  concubines  and  take  a  lawful  wife. 
He  was  not  listened  to.  One  day  Brunhildis,  grand¬ 
mother  of  Theuderich,  asked  his  benediction  for  Theu- 
derich’s  illegitimate  sons.  “  Know  well,”  he  answered, 
“  that  these  sons  will  never  wear  the  royal  insignia,  for 
they  were  begotten  in  sin.”  Columban  was  as  bold  in 
speech  to  the  pope  as  to  kings,  although  he  appreciated 
the  dignity  of  the  Roman  Church.  He  wrote  to  the  pope : 
“  Every  one  knows  that  our  Saviour  gave  to  St.  Peter  the 
keys  of  the  celestial  kingdom.”  But  he  added :  “  Hence 
arises  the  pride  which  causes  you  to  lay  claim  to  more 
authority  than  others  ;  but  be  sure  that  your  power  will  be 
less  before  the  Lord  if  you  so  think  in  your  heart—” 
This  monk,  who  instructed  all  and  asked  counsel  and  took 
orders  of  none,  seems  like  a  prophet  in  the  midst  of  Israel, 
captive  in  a  Babylon  of  iniquity. 

The  Irish  missionaries  coming  into  an  unknown  world, 
without  the  aid  of  king  or  prince,  and  without  money  or 
weapons,  boldly  inaugurated  the  work  which  the  Mero¬ 
vingian  Church  was  powerless  to  undertake.  They  were 
only  a  handful  of  men  for  all  Germany,  but  they  laid 
broad  foundations  for  this  work,  and  through  their  mon¬ 
asteries,  which  were  schools  of  intellectual  and  agricul¬ 
tural  labor,  they  produced  better  priests  and  monks  than 
the  contemporaries  of  Gregory  of  Tours,  strengthened 
Christianity  in  Austrasia,  and  rendered  it  secure  against 
every  pagan  assault. 


86 


The  Hippodrome  at  Constantinople 

Adapted  from  Ch.  Diehl:  Juslinien  et  la  civilization  byzan- 
line  au  VP'  siecle,  igoi,  pp.  439-466. 

ATMEIDAN  PLACE  is  in  the  heart  of  modern 
Stamboul.  Down  to  the  present  day  it  has  preserved 
the  name  and  kept  the  form  of  the  gigantic  circus,  the 
Byzantine  Hippodrome.  It  was  370  meters  long,  and  60 
to  70  meters  wide.  On  the  sides  were  30  or  40  rows  of 
marble  seats,  where  more  than  30,000  men  could  be 
seated.  The  broad  aisles  and  walks  were  decorated  with 
a  host  of  statues.  Some  of  the  most  dramatic  scenes  in 
the  history  of  the  empire  of  the  East  have  been  played  in 
this  Hippodrome ;  the  struggles  there  bring  out  one  of 
the  most  curious  sides  of  the  Byzantine  civilization.  Al¬ 
though  we  no  longer  believe,  as  people  formerly  did,  that 
the  rivalries  of  the  circus,  the  famous  quarrels  of  the 
Greens  and  the  Blues,  make  up,  together  with  the  theo¬ 
logical  controversies,  the  whole  empire  of  the  East ;  nev¬ 
ertheless,  we  must  admit  that  the  Hippodrome  represents 
one  of  the  most  characteristic  aspects  of  the  Byzantine 
world.  It  has  been  well  said  that  at  Constantinople  “  God 
had  St.  Sophia,  the  emperor  had  the  sacred  palace,  and  the 
people  had  the  Hippodrome.” 

87 


Medieval  Civilization 


i 

After  imperial  absolutism  had  effaced  in  the  monarchy 
every  trace  of  the  ancient  Roman  liberties,  the  Hippo¬ 
drome  had  become  the  true  forum  of  Byzantium,  the 
hearth  and  center  of  all  the  public  life  which  still  sur¬ 
vived.  There,  in  the  presence  of  the  assembled  people, 
the  most  important  festivals  of  the  national  life  were  cele¬ 
brated  ;  there,  before  the  eyes  of  the  Byzantine  loafers,  the 
trophies  which  bore  witness  to  the  victories  of  the  basileus 
were  exhibited.  There,  in  honor  of  the  successes  of  Beli- 
sarius,  Justinian  revived  all  the  pomp  of  the  ancient  Ro¬ 
man  triumphs.  That  day,  for  hours,  the  throng  which 
filled  the  seats  of  the  circus  saw  passing  before  them  the 
spoils  of  conquered  Africa :  thrones  of  gold,  precious 
vases,  heaps  of  gems,  costly  plates  and  dishes,  magnificent 
vestments,  sumptuous  carriages,  a  hoard  of  money — all 
the  treasures  which  the  Vandals  had  accumulated  in  a 
hundred  years  of  pillage.  Here,  it  was  the  insignia  of 
the  empire  and  the  vases  of  Solomon,  which  had  been 
seized  by  Gaiseric  in  the  sack  of  Rome,  and  which,  after 
eighty  years  of  detention  at  Carthage,  were  at  length  re¬ 
stored  to  the  hands  of  their  legitimate  owners.  There, 
behind  the  victorious  general,  were  the  captives,  whose 
lofty  stature  and  tawny  locks  filled  the  people  with  aston¬ 
ishment  and  admiration ;  and  among  them,  in  particular, 
was  Gelimer,  his  shoulders  covered  with  a  purple  mantle. 
He  viewed  the  seats  filled  with  spectators,  and  Justinian 
seated  in  the  imperial  box,  with  a  firm  glance  filled  with 
melancholy  irony.  Across  the  circus  the  long  procession 

88 


The  Hippodrome  at  Constantinople 

passed  until  it  reached  the  space  before  the  imperial 
throne.  There  the  Vandal  king,  brutally  despoiled  of  his 
purple,  was  thrown  as  a  suppliant  at  the  feet  of  the  sover¬ 
eign  ;  and  while  from  the  mouth  of  the  conquered  fell  the 
words  of  Ecclesiastes,  “  Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity,” 
Belisarius  in  his  turn  knelt  before  the  master.  Then  the 
pompous  procession  again  passed  on,  while  the  victor  dis¬ 
tributed  to  the  people  the  spoils  of  the  barbarians :  golden 
girdles,  silver  vases,  and  precious  objects  of  every  kind; 
and  a  last  ray  of  the  vanished  Roman  glories  seemed  to 
descend  upon  the  Hippodrome  in  its  festal  array. 

It  was  in  the  Hippodrome,  also,  that  a  new  emperor 
first  came  in  contact  with  his  people.  There  Justinian  and 
Theodora,  consecrated  in  St.  Sophia  by  the  hand  of  the 
patriarch,  received  the  enthusiastic  acclamations  of  their 
new  subjects,  when,  in  the  midst  of  the  pompous  proces¬ 
sion  of  patricians  and  body-guards,  they  came  to  seat 
themselves  in  the  imperial  box  upon  the  golden  throne 
and,  amid  the  acclamations,  the  vows  for  their  prosperity, 
and  the  rhythmic  chants  of  the  factions,  they  made,  for  the 
first  time,  according  to  the  accustomed  rite,  the  sign  of 
the  cross  above  the  heads  of  the  assembled  multitude. 
There,  some  years  later,  other  and  more  tragic  scenes 
were  enacted  between  the  basileus  and  his  people,  when 
those  amazing  dialogues  took  place  between  the  master 
and  his  subjects,  in  which  the  people  questioned  Justinian 
directly,  and  hooted  at  him  and  insulted  him.  Indeed,  for 
the  Byzantines  of  the  sixth  century,  the  Hippodrome  was 
the  asylum  of  the  last  public  liberties.  Long  before,  this 
mob,  which  called  itself  the  heir  of  the  Roman  people,  had 
abdicated  most  of  its  ancient  rights.  It  no  longer  voted 

89 


Medieval  Civilization 


in  the  forum,  it  no  longer  elected  tribunes  or  consuls ;  but 
it  always  retained  in  the  circus  the  liberty  of  cheering, 
railing,  hooting,  and  applauding,  the  right  of  addressing 
to  the  emperor  its  petitions  and  complaints ;  more  fre¬ 
quently  still,  its  sarcasms  and  insults.  In  the  Hippodrome, 
in  fact,  the  prince  and  his  people  met  face  to  face — one 
in  the  pomp  of  his  imperial  splendor,  surrounded  by  his 
patricians,  chamberlains,  and  soldiers ;  the  other  in  their 
formidable  numerical  power,  in  the  fury  of  their  strong 
but  fickle  passions;  and  more  than  once,  in  the  presence 
of  the  clamors  of  the  circus,  the  all-powerful  basileus  had 
to  yield. 

Lastly,  the  Hippodrome  performed  another  function :  it 
was  the  most  admirable  of  museums.  Upon  the  narrow 
terrace,  or  the  spina,  which  divided  the  arena  into  two 
tracks,  along  the  broad  canal  which  ran  in  front  of  the 
lowest  seats,  upon  the  fagade  of  the  imperial  box,  in 
the  marvelous  promenade  which  covered  the  upper  ter¬ 
races,  and  from  which  there  was  a  splendid  view  over  the 
whole  city  and  beyond  the  Bosphorus  as  far  as  the  distant 
mountains  and  the  green  trees  on  the  Asiatic  coast,  under 
the  colonnaded  porticos — everywhere,  there  was  placed  a 
multitude  of  statues.  They  were  the  masterpieces  of 
ancient  art,  which  Asia,  Greece,  and  Rome  had  been  com¬ 
pelled  to  give  up  for  the  embellishment  of  the  new  capital 
of  the  empire.  By  the  wolf  of  Romulus  stood  the  Her¬ 
cules  of  Lysippus,  and  that  admirable  statue  of  Helen, 
whose  “  mouth  half  open  like  the  calyx  of  a  flower,  whose 
enchanting  smile,  liquid  eyes,  and  charming  figure  ”  were 
destined  to  leave  the  rude  companions  of  Villehardouin 
unmoved.  Above  the  imperial  box  stood  the  four  horses 

90 


The  Hippodrome  at  Constantinople 

of  gilded  bronze  which  were  carried  in  the  fifth  century 
from  Chios  to  Byzantium,  and  at  the  present  day  adorn 
the  fagade  of  St.  Mark’s  at  Venice.  In  the  Hippodrome 
were  all  the  glories  and  all  the  works  of  art,  torn  from 
the  shade  of  their  sanctuaries ;  some  of  these  inspired  the 
superstitious  Byzantines  with  strange  and  formidable  ter¬ 
rors.  But,  above  all  else,  the  Hippodrome  was  for  the 
people  of  Byzantium  the  usual  scene  of  their  amusements, 
the  place  where  their  favorite  tastes  and  most  ardent  pas¬ 
sions  found  satisfaction. 


II 

Never  did  any  people,  unless  it  was  the  Roman  people, 
take  a  greater  interest  in  the  pleasures  of  the  circus  than 
did  the  Byzantines  of  the  sixth  century.  A  contemporary 
wrote :  “  At  this  spectacle  more  than  any  other  the  ardor 
which  enflames  the  soul  with  an  unheard-of  passion  is 
prodigious.  If  the  Green  jockey  gets  ahead,  part  of  the 
people  is  disconsolate ;  if  the  Blue  passes  him,  immediately 
half  of  the  city  is  in  mourning.  People  who  derive  no 
profit  from  the  affair  yell  frantic  insults,  people  who  have 
suffered  no  evil  feel  grossly  injured;  and  thus,  with  no 
cause,  they  begin  fighting  as  if  it  were  a  question  of  sav¬ 
ing  their  native  country.”  The  grave  Procopius  himself, 
who  shows  in  general  little  taste  for  these  sports,  says 
somewhere  that  without  the  theater  and  the  Hippodrome 
life  is  really  joyless. 

With  much  greater  reason,  the  common  citizens  of 
Byzantium  were  madly  fond  of  these  pleasures.  Two 
anecdotes,  selected  from  a  thousand,  will  show  how  far 


9i 


Medieval  Civilization 


this  passion  went  in  the  days  of  Justinian.  At  the  time 
when  the  emperor  was  building  St.  Sophia,  one  owner 
had  refused  to  be  forced  to  sell  a  piece  of  land  which  the 
architects  needed.  He  had  been  offered  enormous  sums 
and  had  refused  them  all.  He  had  been  put  in  prison 
and  had  been  obstinate  in  his  resistance.  He  had  been 
deprived  of  food,  and  had  suffered  hunger  without  com¬ 
plaining  or  yielding.  The  prefect  of  the  city  then  had  an 
idea ;  he  got  the  emperor  to  announce  races  at  the  Hippo¬ 
drome  ;  it  was  too  much  for  the  courage  of  the  prisoner ; 
at  the  thought  that  he  would  not  see  the  sight  he  let  his 
house  go  at  a  low  price.  Another  owner  was  more  ac¬ 
commodating.  He  declared  that  he  was  ready  to  sell  at 
once  the  property  which  was  desired,  but  on  the  condi¬ 
tion  that  he  should  have  for  himself,  and  for  his  heirs, 
a  place  of  honor  at  the  Hippodrome,  and  that  people 
should  pay  to  him  when  he  entered  the  same  honors  as 
to  the  emperor.  This  ridiculous  and  vain  Byzantine  was 
a  shoemaker  by  trade.  Justinian  was  amused  and  con¬ 
sented  to  the  man’s  demands,  but  with  this  reservation : 
that  the  imperial  honors  should  be  paid  to  him  from 
behind.  This  is  the  reason  why,  many  centuries  later,  the 
people  made  ironical  acclamations  and  grotesque  genu¬ 
flections  before  the  descendants  of  Justinian’s  shoemaker. 

Thus  Byzantium  was  passionately  fond  of  everything 
that  had  to  do  with  the  races,  not  only  the  horses,  but 
especially  the  drivers.  The  jockeys  of  the  Hippodrome 
were  privileged  persons ;  nothing  was  lacking  to  their 
glory— neither  applause  nor  statues  nor  honors  nor  lit¬ 
tle  poems,  nor  even  exemption  from  taxation.  The  em¬ 
peror  in  person  gave  them  their  patents  as  licensed  jock- 

92 


The  Hippodrome  at  Constantinople 

eys,  and  caused  to  be  delivered  to  them  the  cap  embroi¬ 
dered  with  silver  and  the  scarf  with  the  colors  of  the 
faction.  The  wits  of  the  capital  set  to  work  to  celebrate 
their  talents,  as  in  the  following  quatrain :  “  When  nature 
at  the  end  of  time  gave  birth  to  Porphyrios,  she  took  an 
oath,  and  with  her  mouth,  which  cannot  lie,  she  said : 
It  is  ended,  I  shall  have  no  other  child ;  I  have  endowed 
Porphyrios  with  all  the  grace  I  had.”  To  a  greater  ex¬ 
tent  than  successful  generals  or  illustrious  victors,  the 
circus  jockeys  excited  the  applause  and  inflamed  the  pas¬ 
sions  of  Byzantine  society.  The  people  divided  accord¬ 
ing  to  the  colors  of  the  jockeys’  jackets,  and  the  ardent 
rivalry  of  the  Greens  and  Blues  filled  for  many  centuries 
the  history  of  Byzantium.  Particularly  in  the  reign  of 
Justinian,  it  caused  so  much  agitation,  so  many  revolts 
and  so  great  ruin  in  the  capital,  that  perhaps  it  is  not  at 
all  superfluous  to  explain  briefly  here  what  these  two 
famous  parties  were. 

Since  the  time  of  the  early  Roman  Empire,  the  jockeys 
of  the  Hippodrome  wore  jackets  of  four  colors— green, 
blue,  red,  and  white ;  and  people  who  knew  some  my¬ 
thology  took  pleasure  in  attributing  to  those  colors  a  sym¬ 
bolical  meaning :  green  signified  the  earth,  blue  the  sea, 
red  the  fire,  white  the  air.  The  red  jackets  and  the  white 
jackets  never  became  very  famous ;  but,  from  the  first 
century  of  the  Christian  era,  the  Greens  had  zealous  par¬ 
tisans,  among  whom  they  boasted  of  emperors,  like  Calig¬ 
ula  and  Nero;  the  Blues  had  champions  no  less  illustri¬ 
ous  ;  and  the  passion  which  each  party  felt  in  supporting 
its  color  more  than  once  caused  trouble  and  led  to  blood¬ 
shed.  Naturally,  this  fashion  passed  to  Constantinople, 

93 


Medieval  Civilization 


with  the  other  institutions  of  the  early  empire,  and  there 
the  rivalry  of  the  factions  seems  to  have  become  even 
sharper ;  in  the  sixth  and  seventh  centuries,  more  than 
once,  the  very  history  of  the  empire  was  mixed  up  with 
the  struggles  between  the  Greens  and  the  Blues. 

Generally,  the  factions  of  the  Hippodrome  are  repre¬ 
sented  as  formed  from  several  different  elements.  In  the 
first  place  there  was  a  kind  of  racing  society,  a  jockey- 
club,  containing  several  hundred  and  sometimes  more 
than  a  thousand  members;  its  object  and  reason  for  ex¬ 
istence  was  the  maintenance  of  the  horses,  chariots,  jock¬ 
eys,  and  all  the  equipment  intended  for  the  shows  in  the 
circus — in  short,  as  has  been  stated,  “  to  organize  in  some 
fashion  the  pleasures  of  the  people.”  This  was  really  the 
official  faction,  which  was  a  regular  institution  of  public 
utility,  and  had  its  place  in  all  the  great  official  cere¬ 
monies,  its  rank  at  court,  its  special  privileges,  its  elected 
chief,  and  its  members  who  paid  dues  to  the  treasury  of 
the  society.  But  to  this  nucleus  were  attached  naturally 
the  many  persons  necessary  for  the  celebration  of  the 
games.  “  Poets  were  needed  to  compose  verses,  which 
were  sung  on  certain  occasions  in  honor  of  the  emperor, 
composers  to  set  these  to  music,  orchestral  leaders  to 
present  them,  organists  to  accompany  them,  painters  and 
sculptors  to  make  imperial  images,  guards  to  maintain 
order,  keepers  of  the  barriers  to  drop  them  at  the  start, 
chiefs  of  the  wardrobe  who  looked  out  for  the  preserva¬ 
tion  of  the  jackets  and  crowns  of  the  jockeys,  and,  in 
addition,  dancers,  mimes,  acrobats,  and  buffoons  for  the 
interludes,  stable-boys,  keepers  for  the  beasts,  etc.,  and 
above  all  the  jockeys,  who  wore  the  jackets  with  the  col- 

94 


The  Hippodrome  at  Constantinople 

ors  of  the  faction.”  The  party  also  included  a  third  ele¬ 
ment.  Each  Byzantine  felt  it  an  honor  to  enroll  himself 
in  one  of  the  factions,  to  take  sides  for  the  champion 
which  it  backed  at  the  races ;  he  wore  a  scarf  of  the  color 
of  his  choice,  he  sat  at  the  circus  in  the  section  of  seats 
reserved  for  the  people  of  his  faction,  he  got  excited  or 
grieved  over  the  success  or  the  misfortune  of  his  party. 
Thus  the  whole  population  of  the  capital  was  divided 
into  two  great  parties,  which  existed  in  just  the  same 
manner  in  the  other  cities  of  the  empire ;  and  as  among 
all  these  associations  a  feeling  of  solidarity  had  quickly 
grown  up,  a  sort  of  free-masonry,  Blue  or  Green,  was 
established  throughout  the  monarchy,  and  finally  became 
a  real  source  of  danger. 

It  may  well  be,  however,  as  has  been  suggested  re¬ 
cently,  that  the  factions  were  at  times  something  more. 
It  seems  certain  that  in  the  sixth  century  they  had  a 
political  and  military  organization  which  imposed  upon 
the  population  of  the  capital  certain  duties  and  con¬ 
ferred  on  it  in  exchange  certain  rights.  That  is  the 
reason  that,  outside  even  of  the  affairs  peculiar  to  the 
circus,  the  people  often  intervened  in  the  political  and 
religious  activities  of  the  monarchy.  That  is  the  reason, 
too,  since  these  parties  had  weapons  and  constituted  a 
kind  of  urban  militia,  that  their  agitations  were  really 
dangerous  to  the  State.  And,  beyond  a  doubt,  it  is  true 
that  the  emperor,  like  his  subjects,  was  passionately  fond 
of  the  pleasures  of  the  circus,  and  took  sides  for  the 
Greens  or  the  Blues,  and  that,  when  a  new  prince  was 
present  for  the  first  time  at  the  races,  it  was  a  weighty 
matter,  a  real  affair  of  state,  to  know  to  which  side  his 

95 


Medieval  Civilization 


sympathies  inclined.  Since  the  time  of  Theodosius  II 
the  Greens  had  occupied  the  place  of  honor  at  the  left  of 
the  basileus,  but  more  than  once  they  had  lost  the  im¬ 
perial  favor.  Justinian  and  Theodora,  in  particular,  ac¬ 
corded  to  the  Blues  their  special  protection,  and  it  is 
incontestable  that  the  friendliness  of  the  prince  ordi¬ 
narily  had  the  effect  of  carrying  beyond  the  circus  the 
rivalry  of  factions ;  while,  in  fact,  the  court  party  received 
all  the  profits  and  all  the  privileges,  the  other  party,  not 
as  favorably  regarded — sometimes  even  excluded  from 
public  affairs,  and  persecuted — necessarily  joined  the 
opposition.  This  explains  the  particular  severity  of  the 
strifes  between  the  Greens  and  the  Blues,  and  the  politi¬ 
cal  consequences  which  often  followed.  If  we  are  as¬ 
tonished  that  the  emperor  did  not  maintain  a  strict  and 
prudent  neutrality  between  the  two  hostile  factions,  the 
reason  was  that  he,  too,  was  a  Byzantine  and  that  he 
was  a  man  of  his  time  and  of  his  country.  This  is  all 
true,  and  Justinian  appears  to  have  had  a  very  passionate 
love  for  the  pleasures  of  the  Hippodrome ;  but  all  this 
does  not  explain  fully  the  peril  involved  in  the  conflict 
which  so  many  times  set  the  government  and  the  factions 
together  by  the  ears.  It  seems  as  if,  on  the  one  side,  in 
the  popular  groups,  something  of  the  old  democratic 
spirit  of  the  Greek  cities  still  existed,  and  that,  on  the 
other  side,  in  the  government  councils,  there  was  an 
increasing  tendency  toward  an  unlimited  absolutism. 
Between  these  two  opposite  principles  strife  was  inevi¬ 
table  ;  the  circus  was  its  theater ;  but  the  games  were  not 
the  only  cause ;  they  were  perhaps  not  even  the  principal 
cause  of  the  strife. 


96 


The  Hippodrome  at  Constantinople 


ill 

However  that  may  be,  the  whole  population  of  Constan¬ 
tinople  was  excited  when  there  were  to  be  games  in 
the  Hippodrome.  The  evening  before,  the  whole  city 
was  in  motion.  In  the  private  amphitheaters  of  each  fac¬ 
tion  there  was  a  final  rehearsal  of  the  troupe.  In  the 
Hippodrome  the  last  preparations  were  made ;  over  the 
arena  they  extended  great  awnings  of  silk  and  purple  to 
protect  the  spectators  from  the  heat  of  the  sun ;  on  the 
ground  they  spread  fresh  sand  mixed  with  fragrant 
powdered  cedar ;  they  tested  the  barriers  behind  which 
the  contestants  awaited  the  signal  to  start ;  and  through 
the  great  gates  opening  upon  the  Forum  Augusteum  a 
multitude  of  people  was  already  hastening  to  occupy  the 
best  places.  When  the  time  came  all  Constantinople  was 
assembled  upon  the  benches  which  ran  along  the  sides 
of  the  Hippodrome  and  around  the  semi-circle  at  the  end ; 
upon  the  benches  nearest  the  arena  were  the  official  mem¬ 
bers  of  the  factions,  girded  with  scarfs  of  the  rival  col¬ 
ors,  holding  in  their  hands  a  short  baton  surmounted  by 
a  cross.  Elsewhere  in  reserved  seats  were  placed  the 
ambassadors  of  foreign  nations,  and  in  the  decorated 
boxes  arranged  along  the  straight  side  of  the  circus  were 
seated  generals,  senators,  and  high  dignitaries  of  the 
palace  and  even  of  the  Church.  There  also  was  the  im¬ 
perial  box,  elevated  several  stories  above  the  level  of  the 
arena,  so  that  the  basileus,  while  in  the  midst  of  his  peo¬ 
ple,  was  not  at  all  at  their  mercy.  For  that  reason,  in 
the  Hippodrome  no  stairway  led  from  the  circus  to  the 

97 


Medieval  Civilization 


official  tribune,  and  on  the  projecting  terrace,  slightly 
below,  detachments  of  the  guard  were  placed  all  ready 
to  protect  the  master  against  the  sudden  pranks  of  the 
populace ;  for  that  reason,  too,  behind  the  prince’s  box 
there  was  a  direct  communication  with  the  palace,  and 
solid  bronze  doors  closed  the  tribune  against  every  un¬ 
foreseen  assault.  There,  among  his  eunuchs,  courtiers, 
and  high  functionaries,  the  emperor  came  to  sit  upon  his 
throne  with  his  crown  upon  his  forehead  and  his  scepter 
in  his  hand.  Over  the  bowed  heads  of  the  people  he  made 
the  solemn  sign  of  the  cross,  while  applause,  hymns,  and 
the  songs  of  the  factions  burst  forth  from  every  side. 
The  empress  did  not  sit  in  the  imperial  box.  In  this 
Oriental  court  it  was  contrary  to  etiquette  that  she  should 
appear  frequently  in  public.  But,  like  the  true  Byzantine 
woman  that  she  was,  the  empress  was  no  less  interested 
in  the  circus  than  her  husband  and  his  subjects.  Pro¬ 
copius  says,  somewhere,  that  the  women,  although  they 
never  went  to  the  circus,  were  as  passionately  interested 
as  the  men  in  the  factional  strifes;  and  how  could  Theo¬ 
dora  have  been  indifferent  to  the  theater  of  her  first 
exploits,  her  first  triumphs,  and  her  first  hatreds?  Ac¬ 
cordingly,  she  witnessed  the  games — invisible,  but  pres¬ 
ent.  She  sat  with  her  court  of  ladies  in  the  upper  gal¬ 
leries  of  the  church  of  St.  Sophia,  which  overlooked  the 
circus,  and  the  spectacle  began  when  the  people  became 
aware  of  the  presence  of  their  sovereign  lady  behind  the 
grilled  windows  of  the  basilica. 

When  the  signal  was  given  by  the  basileus,  four  doors 
opened  on  the  ground  floor  of  the  imperial  box ;  four 
chariots  of  the  four  different  colors  rushed  forth,  each 

98 


The  Hippodrome  at  Constantinople 

one  drawn  by  four  horses.  Amid  cries  and  acclamations 
they  raced  along  the  track,  encouraged  by  the  applause, 
accompanied  by  the  vows  of  the  rival  factions,  attempting 
to  pass  one  another,  risking  a  smash-up  at  the  difficult 
turn  which  marked  the  end  of  the  spina.  Then  the  pas¬ 
sion  for  the  races,  that  “  mental  malady,”  as  Procopius 
called  it,  took  complete  possession  of  the  whole  people. 
They  forgot  everything, — relatives,  friends,  laws  divine 
and  human, — and  thought  only  of  the  triumph  of  the  fac¬ 
tion.  Then  were  the  perils  of  the  State  and  the  cares  of 
private  life  forgotten ;  each  one  would  have  given  joy¬ 
fully  his  fortune,  his  very  life,  to  secure  the  victory  to 
the  jockey  of  his  party.  Leaning  forward,  panting  for 
breath,  the  spectators  followed  the  fortunes  of  the  race 
with  a  fierceness  which  was  still  more  exasperated  by  the 
sight  of  the  rival  faction  triumphing  over  its  opponent’s 
defeat,  replying  by  insults  or  jeers  to  its  uneasiness  or 
grief.  Then  from  one  side  to  the  other  they  shot  glances 
charged  with  hatred ;  they  challenged  one  another ;  they 
dared  one  another  with  voice  and  gesture ;  they  exchanged 
sarcasms  and  insults ;  and  if  the  guards,  with  their  batons 
in  their  hands,  had  not  kept  the  spectators  back,  more 
than  one  of  these  excitable  people  would  have  leaped 
into  the  arena,  without  exactly  knowing  why,  as  a  con¬ 
temporary  said,  and  would  have  gone  to  punch  the  heads 
of  the  men  in  the  other  party.  At  last  the  race  was 
finished,  and  the  winner  proclaimed ;  afterward,  the  same 
spectacle  was  repeated  three  times  in  the  leveled  arena. 
The  first  part  of  the  program  was  over. 

Then  was  the  time  for  the  interludes — pantomimes, 
exhibitions  of  strange  animals,  feats  of  acrobats,  and  tricks 

99 


Medieval  Civilization 


of  the  clowns.  We  know  the  way  in  which,  according 
to  report,  Theodora,  in  her  youth,  charmed  the  crowd 
during  this  part  of  the  show.  On  other  occasions  the 
show,  though  less  piquant,  was  no  less  amusing  to  the 
people.  A  trick  dog,  yellow,  and  blind  in  one  eye,  was, 
in  the  time  of  Justinian,  the  particular  favorite  of  the 
amphitheater.  It  was  a  very  remarkable  animal !  It 
could  classify  the  medals  of  the  emperor  as  well  as  a 
professional  numismatist ;  when  rings  were  mixed  up  in 
a  vase,  it  carried  each  one  back  to  its  rightful  owner; 
in  a  circle  of  spectators  it  could  designate  without  error 
the  most  miserly  person,  the  most  generous,  and  the  most 
vicious ;  it  could  even  pick  out  women  who  behaved 
badly ;  and  the  witty  loungers  of  Byzantium  said  that 
this  dog  certainly  had  in  his  body  the  prophetic  spirit 
of  a  witch. 

Thus  the  morning  passed.  Then  the  emperor  retired 
with  the  high  officials  to  the  dining-room  of  the  palace 
of  Kathisma,  near  the  imperial  box.  The  people  got  out 
their  own  provisions,  unless  the  prince,  in  order  to  do 
the  thing  handsomely,  gave  his  subjects  this  meal.  Gen¬ 
erally,  it  was  very  modest ;  the  fare  was  made  up  of  vege¬ 
tables,  fruit,  and  salt  fish ;  but  these  were  enough  to  make 
the  people  happy.  The  emperor,  however,  had  to  be  as 
moderate  as  his  subjects.  If  he  sat  too  long  at  table  the 
crowd  very  soon  became  impatient.  One  day,  when  the 
emperor  Phocas,  a  successor  of  Justinian,  took  too  long 
in  dining,  the  crowd  began  to  ng,  respectfully  at  first: 
“  Rise,  O  imperial  sun  rise  and  appear.’!  But  as  the 
basileus  kept  them  waitir  .  the  cries  soon  became  more 
lively  and  the  tone  more  inso’  at:  “  You  have  kissed  the 
bottle  too  often;  you  will  mto  more  trouble!” 


ioo 


The  Hippodrome  at  Constantinople 

Generally,  the  emperor  did  not  have  to  be  called  to  or¬ 
der.  Of  his  own  accord,  he  returned  to  give  the  signal 
for  more  races.  As  in  the  morning,  there  were  four  in 
the  afternoon.  But  when  the  show  ended,  the  passions 
which  had  been  excited  did  not  cool  down.  When  they 
went  out,  the  victors  marched,  proudly  waving  the  win¬ 
ning  colors  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd.  The  defeated  were 
pursued  with  jokes  and  insults.  Accordingly,  rows  were 
frequent,  and  these  often  became  bloody  battles,  which 
the  imperial  guard  did  not  always  succeed  in  stopping. 


IV 

But  this  was  not  all.  Not  only  on  the  days  of  the 
races  did  the  party  which  enjoyed  the  imperial  protection 
follow  out  all  their  caprices ;  they  did  it  every  day. 
Since  his  inauguration,  and  even  before,  Justinian,  like 
his  uncle  Justin,  had  shown  a  particular  liking  for  the 
Blues,  and  Theodora  had  encouraged  and  increased  this 
partiality.  She  did  not  forget  that  in  her  youth  she 
had  belonged  to  the  Blue  faction,  and  her  vindictive 
nature  never  pardoned  the  injustice  which  she  pretended 
that  she  had  received  from  the  Greens.  Thus,  being  sure 
of  the  imperial  favor,  the  Blues  soon  gave  themselves  up 
to  all  kinds  of  excesses.  Naturally,  in  this  sporting  and 
theatrical  world  the  company  was  very  mixed.  Many 
adventurers  or  rakes  were  enrolled  in  the  factions,  in 
the  hope  of  finding  some  chance  for  pleasure  or  profit. 
They  were  the  especial  ones  who  gave  themselves  free 
rein.  They  adopted  a  distinctive  costume  and  eccentric 
manners.  They  wore  long  beards,  like  the  Persians.  They 


IOI 


Medieval  Civilization 


shaved  the  hair  on  the  front  of  the  head  like  the  Huns, 
and  let  it  grow  at  the  back  in  long  curls.  THey  wore 
coats  with  sleeves  very  tight  at  the  wrist  and  very  full 
at  the  shoulders,  large  mantles  richly  embroidered, 
breeches  and  shoes  made  after  the  fashion  of  the  Huns ; 
and  thus  dressed,  they  strolled  about  Constantinople  at 
night,  attacking  and  robbing  peaceful  people,  especially 
those  of  the  Green  faction,  assassinating  their  private 
enemies  or  having  them  murdered,  even  in  the  churches, 
forcing  their  creditors  to  give  them  receipts,  violating 
women,  and  doing  all  this  without  any  interference  by 
the  police  or  the  courts.  Naturally,  the  Greens,  constantly 
maltreated  and  finding  no  protection,  organized  bands  on 
their  side,  and  they  too  abandoned  themselves  to  all  kinds 
of  excesses.  As,  in  addition,  many  of  them  were  still  in 
favor  of  the  dynasty  of  Anastasius,  their  former  protec¬ 
tor,  whose  nephews,  Hypatius  and  Pompeius,  lived  in 
Constantinople,  the  opposition  of  the  Green  faction  very 
soon  took  a  political  form.  Against  these  anti-dynastic 
tendencies,  and  those  people  who  were  suspected  and 
disliked  by  the  emperor,  the  public  administration  neces¬ 
sarily  acted  without  any  consideration,  and  the  courts 
forgot  all  equity  in  matters  which  concerned  the  Greens. 
“  In  these  controversies,”  wrote  a  contemporary,  “  the 
judgment  did  not  depend  upon  justice  and  law,  but  upon 
the  factions’  hostility  or  favor  to  the  parties  concerned. 
If  a  judge  neglected  the  orders  of  the  factions,  it  was 
his  death  sentence.”  If  Procopius  does  not  exaggerate, 
it  was  a  regular  Terror  on  a  small  scale,  from  which 
peaceful  people  of  all  parties  suffered  equally.  At  all 
events,  the  result  was  a  formidable  state  of  ferment  in 


102 


The  Hippodrome  at  Constantinople 

the  early  years  of  the  reign,  which  was  still  more  aggra¬ 
vated  by  the  bad  administration  and  the  exactions  of  the 
principal  ministers,  especially  Tribonian  and  John  of 
Cappadocia.  All  of  these  motives  combined,  in  the 
month  of  January,  532,  to  produce  the  dangerous  rebel¬ 
lion  known  under  the  name  of  the  Nika  riot,  which  be¬ 
gan  in  the  circus,  soon  spread  over  the  entire  city,  and 
came  near  driving  Justinian  from  his  throne.  It  deserves 
to  be  recounted  at  length,  because  it  is  very  characteristic 
of  the  Byzantine  manners :  it  shows  very  clearly  the  pas¬ 
sions  which  agitated  the-  Hippodrome,  it  is  a  very  famous 
episode  in  the  quarrels  between  the  Greens  and  the  Blues, 
and,  finally,  it  had  very  important  consequences  for  the 
development  of  the  government. 


V 

Sunday,  January  11,  532,  the  races  were  taking  place, 
as  usual,  in  the  Hippodrome.  The  emperor  was  present 
in  great  pomp ;  but  that  day  the  crowd  was  very  boister¬ 
ous.  Upon  the  benches  where  the  Greens  sat,  the  racket 
was  incessant  and  the  hooting  continuous ;  the  faction 
believed  that  they  had  reason  to  complain  of  an  official 
of  the  palace,  the  grand  chamberlain  Calopodios,  and  at 
every  opportunity  they  gave  vent  to  their  bad  humor. 
At  last,  Justinian  became  impatient,  and  ordered  a  herald 
to  speak  to  the  people.  Then  between  the  spokesman 
of  the  Greens  and  the  emperor’s  herald  there  was  a  most 
astonishing  dialogue,  in  which  the  complaints  were  at 
first  respectful,  but  very  soon  changed  into  violent  in- 

103 


Medieval  Civilization 


vectives,  and  anger  mingled  with  irony.  This  debate 
must  be  quoted  almost  completely,  as  it  is  so  character¬ 
istic  of  the  Byzantine  manners  in  the  sixth  century. 

The  Greens:  “  Long  live  Emperor  Justinian!  May  he 
be  ever  victorious !  But,  O  best  of  Princes,  we  are  suf¬ 
fering  all  kinds  of  injustice.  God  knows  we  cannot  stand 
it  any  longer.  Yet  we  are  afraid  to  name  our  persecutor, 
from  fear  that  he  may  become  more  angry  and  that  we 
shall  incur  still  greater  dangers.” 

Herald:  “  I  do  not  know  of  whom  you  are  speaking.” 

Greens:  “  Our  oppressor,  O  thrice  August !  lives  in 
the  shoemakers’  quarter.” 

Herald:  “No  one  is  doing  you  any  injury.” 

Greens:  “  A  single  man  persecutes  us.  O  Mother  of 
God,  protect  us !  ” 

Herald:  “  I  do  not  know  this  man.” 

Greens:  “Oh,  yes,  you  do !  You  know  very  well, 
thrice  August,  who  is  our  executioner  at  present.” 

Herald:  “  If  any  one  is  persecuting  you,  I  do  not 
know  who  it  is.” 

Greens:  “Well,  Master  of  the  World,  it  is  Calo- 
podios.” 

Herald:  “  Calopodios  has  nothing  to  do  with  you.” 

Greens:  “  Whoever  it  is  will  suffer  the  fate  of  Judas, 
and  God  will  very  soon  punish  him  for  his  injustice.” 

Herald:  “  You  did  n’t  come  here  to  see  the  show,  but 
only  to  insult  the  officials.” 

Greens:  “  Yes,  if  any  one  annoys  us  he  will  suffer  the 
fate  of  Judas.” 

Herald:  “  Shut  up,  you  Jews,  Manicheans,  Samari¬ 
tans  !  ” 


104 


The  Hippodrome  at  Constantinople 

Greens:  “You  call  us  Jews  and  Samaritans;  may  the 
Mother  of  God  protect  us  all  equally !  ” 

Herald:  “  I  want  you  to  get  baptized.” 

Greens:  “  All  right,  we  ’ll  get  baptized.” 

Herald:  “  I  tell  you,  if  you  don’t  shut  up,  I  ’ll  have 
your  heads  cut  off.” 

Greens:  “  Each  one  seeks  to  have  power,  in  order  to 
be  safe.  If  our  remarks  hurt  you,  we  hope  that  you  will 
not  be  at  all  irritated.  He  who  is  divine  ought  to  bear 
everything  patiently.  But,  while  we  are  talking,  we  shall 
call  a  spade  a  spade.  We  no  longer  know,  thrice  August, 
where  the  palace  is  or  the  government ;  the  only  way  we 
know  the  city  now  is  when  we  pass  through  it  on  an 
ass’s  back.  And  that  is  unjust,  thrice  August.” 

Herald:  “  Every  freeman  can  appear  publicly  where- 
ever  he  likes,  without  danger.” 

Greens:  “  We  know  very  well  we  are  free,  but  we  are 
not  allowed  to  use  our  liberty.  And  if  any  freeman  is 
suspected  of  being  a  Green,  he  is  always  punished  by 
public  authority.” 

Herald:  “Jail-birds,  don’t  you  fear  for  your  souls?” 

Greens:  “  Let  the  color  which  we  wear  be  suppressed, 
and  the  courts  will  be  out  of  a  job.  You  allow  us  to  be 
assassinated,  and,  in  addition,  you  order  us  to  be  punished. 
You  are  the  source  of  life,  and  you  kill  whomsoever  you 
choose.  Truly,  human  nature  cannot  endure  these  two 
opposites.  Ah!  Would  to  heaven  that  your  father,  Sab- 
batios,  had  never  been  born  !  He  would  not  have  begotten 
an  assassin.  Just  now  a  sixth  murder  took  place  in  the 
Zeugma ;  yesterday,  the  man  was  alive,  and  in  the  even¬ 
ing,  Master  of  all  things,  he  was  dead.” 

105 


Medieval  Civilization 

Blues:  “  All  the  murderers  in  the  Stadium  belong  to 
your  party.” 

Greens:  “  You  do  the  killing,  and  you  escape  punish¬ 
ment.” 

Blues:  “  You  do  the  killing,  and  you  keep  on  talk¬ 
ing;  all  the  assassins  in  the  Stadium  belong  to  your 
faction.” 

Greens:  “O  Emperor  Justinian!  They  complain, 
and  yet  no  one  is  killing  them.  Come,  let  ’s  discuss  it ; 
who  killed  the  dealer  in  wood  in  the  Zeugma?” 

Herald:  “  You  did.” 

Greens:  “  And  the  son  of  Epagathos,  who  killed  him, 
O  Emperor?  ” 

Herald:  “  You  did  that,  too,  and  you  accuse  the  Blues 
of  it.” 

Greens:  “  That  will  do.  May  the  Lord  have  mercy  on 
us!  Truth  is  getting  the  worst  of  it.  If  it  is  true  that 
God  governs  the  world,  where  do  so  many  calamities 
come  from  ?  ” 

Herald:  “  God  is  a  stranger  to  evil.” 

Greens:  “  God  is  a  stranger  to  evil !  Then  why  are 
we  persecuted?  Let  a  philosopher  or  a  hermit  come  to 
solve  the  dilemma.” 

Herald:  “  Blasphemers,  enemies  of  God,  will  you  not 
keep  still  ?  ” 

Greens:  “  If  your  Majesty  orders  us  we  shall  keep 
still,  thrice  August,  but  it  will  be  against  our  will.  We 
know  all  about  it,  but  we  are  silent.  Adieu.  Justice, 
thou  dost  not  exist  any  longer.  We  are  going  away; 
we  ’ll  become  Jews.  God  knows,  it  is  better  to  be  a  pagan 
than  a  Blue.” 


106 


The  Hippodrome  at  Constantinople 

Blues:  “Oh,  horrors!  we  don’t  want  to  see  them  any 
longer ;  such  hatred  frightens  us.” 

Greens:  “  We  hope  the  boxes  of  the  spectators  will 
be  thrown  into  the  sewer  some  day.” 

With  these  words  the  Green  faction  left  the  Hippo¬ 
drome  in  a  body ;  it  was  the  worst  insult  they  could 
inflict  upon  the  emperor. 

While  the  exasperated  mob  went  out  of  the  circus  and 
spread  through  the  streets,  Justinian  returned  to  the 
palace  thinking  that  as  usual  the  rivalry  of  the  Blues 
would  very  quickly  allay  the  fury  of  the  other  party. 
Unfortunately,  a  troublesome  accident  united  the  two 
parties.  The  prefect  of  the  city  had  been  too  zealous ; 
he  had  had  several  rioters  arrested  and  condemned  to 
death.  But  the  executioner  bungled  his  job;  twice  the 
rope  broke  under  the  weight  of  the  condemned.  Then 
the  mob  got  angry  and  rescued  the  victims,  whom  the 
monks  of  St.  Conon  received  into  a  neighboring  church. 
Now,  by  chance,  one  of  the  prisoners  was  a  Blue  and 
the  other  a  Green ;  thus  the  two  factions  found  them¬ 
selves  brought  together  by  a  common  danger.  Two  days 
later,  January  13,  it  was  very  evident  in  the  Hippodrome; 
again  there  was  a  violent  uproar,  and  instead  of  the  loy¬ 
alist  cry,  “Victory  to  the  Emperor  Justinian!”  they 
shouted  on  all  sides,  “  Long  live  the  Greens  and  the  Blues,  — 
united  for  mercy!  ”  and  with  the  cry  of  Nika  (victory) 

— from  this  rallying-cry  the  insurrection  got  the  name  by 
which  it  is  handed  down  in  history — the  rioters  rushed 
through  the  city.  They  attacked  the  prefecture,  demand¬ 
ing  the  release  of  the  guilty  who  were  still  in  prison ; 
the  guards  were  massacred ;  the  prefect’s  palace  was 

107 


Medieval  Civilization 


burned,  and  during  the  whole  night  the  seething  mob 
filled  all  the  streets  in  the  capital.  With  the  union  of 
the  two  parties,  the  riot  assumed  a  more  serious  form. 
The  next  day,  January  14,  the  flood  of  people  was  beat¬ 
ing  against  the  palace  gates,  demanding  the  dismissal  of 
the  grand  chamberlain  and  of  the  prefect  of  the  city, 
and  in  addition  the  discharge  of  the  two  detested  minis¬ 
ters,  Tribonian  and  John  of  Cappadocia.  Justinian 
yielded,  but  already  it  was  too  late.  The  emperor’s  yield¬ 
ing  merely  encouraged  a  furious  mob ;  the  revolt  became 
a  revolution. 

Up  to  that  time,  however,  the  sane  portion  of  the 
people  had  taken  no  part  in  these  events  and  all  was  not 
lost.  Justinian  believed  that  he  could  take  vigorous  ac¬ 
tion  ;  on  the  fifteenth,  he  let  loose  upon  the  insurgents 
his  barbarian  soldiers,  with  Belisarius  at  their  head.  Un¬ 
fortunately,  in  the  conflict  these  mercenaries  maltreated 
the  priests  of  St.  Sophia,  who  had  brought  out  the  sacred 
relics  and  had  intervened  to  separate  the  combatants. 
Then  there  was  a  general  row.  From  the  windows  and 
the  terraced  roofs  a  hail  of  tiles  and  stones  fell  upon 
the  sacrilegious,  and  the  women,  who  were  particularly 
enraged,  engaged  actively  in  the  battle.  Before  this  tem¬ 
pest  the  disconcerted  soldiers  had  to  beat  a  retreat  to 
the  palace,  and  to  hasten  their  flight  the  victorious  peo¬ 
ple  set  fire  to  the  public  buildings  in  the  neighborhood. 
The  senate-house  and  the  approaches  to  the  palace  be¬ 
came  the  prey  of  the  flames ;  for  three  days  the  fire, 
driven  by  a  strong  wind,  continued  its  ravages,  destroy¬ 
ing,  in  succession,  St.  Sophia,  the  approaches  to  the 
Augusteum,  the  baths  of  Zeuxippus,  St.  Irene,  the 

108 


The  Hippodrome  at  Constantinople 

Xenodochion  of  Eubulus,  the  great  hospital  of  Sampson 
with  all  its  patients,  a  large  number  of  palaces  and  private 
houses,  and  the  whole  quarter,  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
in  the  city,  which  extended  from  the  sacred  palace  to  the 
Forum  of  Constantine. 

“  The  city,”  said  an  eye-witness,  “  was  left  a  mass  of 
blackened  mounds ;  as  at  Lipari  or  Vesuvius,  it  was  full 
of  smoke  and  cinders ;  the  smell  of  the  burning  spreading 
everywhere  made  it  uninhabitable,  and  the  sight  filled  a 
spectator  with  mingled  terror  and  pity.” 

Justinian  was  frightened.  He  had  shut  himself  up 
in  the  palace,  with  those  who  stood  by  him ;  means 
of  defense  were  almost  entirely  wanting.  The  guard 
was  a  body  of  ornamental  troops,  intended  to  be  shown 
off  in  ceremonies,  and  he  was  not  sure  that  he  could 
trust  them.  The  barbarian  troops  of  Belisarius  and 
Mundus  were  the  only  ones  that  he  had  confidence  in, 
and  they  were  not  very  numerous.  So  the  basileus  was 
very  uneasy,  thinking  that  he  already  saw  conspirators 
and  assassins  all  around  him,  and  he  became  more  and 
more  excited  and  confused.  The  nephews  of  Anastasius* 
had  come  to  the  palace  to  protest  that  they  were  loyal ; 
he  commanded  them,  in  spite  of  their  prayers,  to  return 
home,  without  realizing  that  he  was  thus  furnishing  for 
the  insurrection  tlje  leaders  which  as  yet  it  lacked. 

January  1 8,  the  sixth  day  of  the  riot,  Justinian  made 
a  last  attempt.  He  appeared  in  the  Hippodrome,  hold¬ 
ing  the  Gospels  in  his  hand,  and  addressed  the  assembled 
people :  “  I  swear  by  this  sacred  book  that  I  pardon  all 
your  offences.  I  will  have  no  one  of  you  arrested,  pro¬ 
vided  that  all  trouble  ceases.  You  are  not  at  all  responsi- 

109 


Medieval  Civilization 


ble  for  what  has  happened.  I  am  the  sole  cause  of 
everything.  My  sins  led  me  to  refuse  what  you  demanded 
in  the  Hippodrome.”  These  words  were  received  with  a 
little  scattered  applause,  but  from  all  sides  they  re¬ 
sponded  to  the  prince :  “  You  lie,  ass ;  you  are  swearing 
a  false  oath.”  And  this  time  Theodora  does  not  appear 
to  have  escaped  the  insults.  So  Justinian,  without  wait¬ 
ing  for  anything  more,  went  back  very  hastily  to  the 
palace. 

What  might  have  been  expected,  happened.  The  peo¬ 
ple,  in  a  hurry  to  give  themselves  a  new  master,  went  to 
find  Hypatius,  the  nephew  of  Anastasius,  whom  they 
had  been  applauding  on  every  occasion  for  several  days. 
In  spite  of  his  own  unwillingness  and  the  tears  of  his 
wife,  they  dragged  him  to  the  Forum  of  Anastasius, 
raised  him  on  a  shield,  placed  a  golden  chain  on  his  fore¬ 
head  in  place  of  a  diadem,  and  gave  him  the  insignia  of 
the  empire  and  the  imperial  robe,  which  they  had  car¬ 
ried  off  from  the  part  of  the  palace  which  they  had 
invaded.  Then  the  crowd  hastened  to  the  Hippodrome ; 
they  hoisted  the  new  sovereign  into  the  imperial  box, 
and  the  chiefs  of  the  rebellion  began  to  discuss  the  best 
way  of  storming  the  residence,  which  they  said  Justinian 
had  just  left  in  great  haste. 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  January  18.  The  insurrection, 
which  now  included  all  the  discontented  and  also  a  con¬ 
siderable  number  of  senators  and  nobles,  assumed  more 
and  more  the  form  of  a  political  movement.  Events  were 
moving  rapidly,  and  the  decisive  moment  had  come. 
“  The  empire  itself,”  as  Lydus  said,  “  seemed  on  the  eve 
of  its  fall.”  Justinian,  without  resources,  and  without 


no 


The  Hippodrome  at  Constantinople 

hope,  was  thinking  of  abandoning  everything,  when 
Theodora’s  energy  aroused  the  courage  of  the  emperor 
and  his  counselors.  At  last  they  took  some  measures  to 
defend  themselves,  while  Narses  attempted  to  detach  the 
Blues  from  the  revolt,  and  succeeded  in  doing  so  by 
bribery ;  and  while,  because  of  this  division,  discord  arose 
among  the  insurgents,  and  some  loyalists  were  again 
heard  shouting,  “Long  live  Justinian!  O  Lord,  pro¬ 
tect  Justinian  and  Theodora!”  Belisarius  and  Mundus 
were  preparing  for  a  decisive  attack  upon  the  Hippo¬ 
drome.  Belisarius  succeeded,  with  some  difficulty,  in 
penetrating  through  the  burning  debris  into  the  arena, 
while  the  soldiers  of  Mundus  broke  in  at  the  opposite 
gate,  called  the  Gate  of  the  Dead,  and  from  the  lofty 
promenades  of  the  amphitheater  the  imperial  troops 
poured  upon  the  crowd  a  hail  of  arrows.  Then  in  the 
multitude  crowded  in  the  circus  there  was  a  frightful 
panic,  which  became  greater  when  the  soldiers  pushed 
mercilessly  across  the  arena,  giving  no  quarter.  All  who 
came  in  their  way  were  massacred  without  pity,  and  at 
night,  when  the  slaughter  ceased,  more  than  thirty  thou¬ 
sand  corpses,  according  to  some, — according  to  others, 
nearly  fifty  thousand, — were  strewn  on  the  bloody  soil 
of  the  Hippodrome.  ■" 

Hypatius  was  arrested,  with  his  cousin  Pompeius,  and 
brought  before  Justinian.  Both  threw  themselves  on 
their  knees,  imploring  mercy,  swearing  that  they  were 
innocent,  and  that  they  had  been  forced  to  do  what  they 
did.  They  added  that  in  getting  all  the  rebels  together 
in  the  Hippodrome,  they  had  planned  to  deliver  them 
defenseless  to  the  blows  of  the  emperor.  And  it  was 


1 1 1 


Medieval  Civilization 


the  truth ;  but  unfortunately  for  Hypatius,  amid  the  dis¬ 
order  of  the  palace,  the  message  which  he  had  sent  to 
Justinian  had  not  reached  the  basileus.  The  latter,  ac¬ 
cordingly,  having  now  recovered  his  sang  froid,  re¬ 
sponded  to  the  suppliants  with  cruel  irony:  “Very 
good ;  but  since  you  had  so  much  authority  over  these 
men,  you  ought  to  have  exerted  it  before  they  burned  my 
city.”  And  early  the  next  morning  he  had  them  both 
executed.  Justinian,  as  Gibbon  said,  “  had  been  too  much 
terrified  to  forgive.” 

Moreover,  some  senators  compromised  in  the  uprising 
were  executed  or  exiled,  and,  to  justify  the  severity,  an 
official  account  of  the  event  was  made  public,  stating  that 
Hypatius  and  his  cousin  had  planned,  and  voluntarily 
carried  on,  the  rebellion  to  which  the  imperial  authority 
had  almost  succumbed. 

The  frightful  bloodshed  which  terminated  this  six 
days’  battle  calmed  the  factions  of  the  Hippodrome,  and 
completed  the  foundation  of  the  imperial  absolutism. 
Justinian  was  able,  without  protest,  to  restrict,  and  even 
for  some  years  to  suppress  almost  entirely,  the  games  of 
the  circus.  Undoubtedly  the  parties  regained  their  cour¬ 
age  later  in  his  reign ;  factional  disputes  and  struggles 
again  appeared  in  the  amphitheater ;  outcries  and  insults 
against  the  emperor  were  again  heard,  and  Justinian 
resented  these  the  more  deeply  because  a  foreign  ambas¬ 
sador  was  present  at  this  inglorious  episode ;  and  more 
than  once,  as  in  532,  Constantinople  again  witnessed 
tumult  and  battle  in  her  streets  and  flames  swept  away 
her  public  buildings.  But  the  imperial  authority  was 
stronger,  and  always  repressed  these  seditious  manifes- 


112 


The  Hippodrome  at  Constantinople 

tations  promptly  and  energetically ;  and,  becoming  more 
equitable,  it  was  not  afraid  even  to  punish  the  Blues 
when,  on  several  occasions,  confiding  in  the  protection 
of  the  prince,  they  gave  the  signal  for  riots.  “  Thanks 
to  this  timely  severity,”  says  a  contemporary,  “  order 
was  restored  in  the  city,  every  one  enjoyed  freedom  from 
this  time  on,  and  all  could  go  about  their  business  or 
pleasure  without  fear.”  Although  the  capital  was  some¬ 
times  disturbed,  these  riots  were  really  of  little  impor¬ 
tance  compared  with  the  great  uprising  which,  but  for 
Theodora’s  energy,  would  have  deprived  Justinian  of  his 
throne. 

Such  were,  fourteen  hundred  years  ago,  the  tumultu¬ 
ous  scenes  which  filled  the  Hippodrome  and  Byzantium 
with  massacre  and  conflagration.  But  if  the  insurrection 
was  put  down,  its  traces  were  everywhere  present.  The 
fire  had  spread  its  ravages  over  the  old  city  of  Constan¬ 
tine  ;  everything  had  to  be  rebuilt— churches,  palaces,  and 
public  monuments.  It  is  one  of  the  most  meritorious  and 
striking  of  the  tasks  of  Justinian,  that  he  made  his  capi¬ 
tal  veritably  in  his  own  image,  and  attached  his  name 
indissolubly  to  the  splendors  of  St.  Sophia. 


Christian  Missions  in  Gaul  and 
Germany  in  the  Seventh 
and  Eighth  Centuries 


Adapted  from  Berthelot,  in  Lavisse  et  Rambaud:  Histoire 
Generate,  Vol.  I,  1893,  pp.  285-296. 

HE  work  of  converting  the  heathen  was  carried  on 


JL  with  great  success  in  the  century  and  a  half  which 
preceded  the  advent  of  Charles  the  Great  to  the  kingly 
throne.  Not  only  was  the  knowledge  of  the  true  God 
carried  into  regions  which  had  never  known  Him,  but 
territories  which  had  lapsed  from  Christianity  to  pagan¬ 
ism  were  reclaimed. 

The  northeastern  portion  of  the  Frankish  dominions 
was  the  scene  of  the  activity  of  St.  Amand,  one  of  the 
first  great  missionaries.  St.  Amand  was  born  in  Aqui¬ 
taine,  and  became  a  monk  against  the  wishes  of  his  pa¬ 
rents.  After  visiting  Rome  he  returned  to  Gaul,  in  order 
that  he  might  evangelize  the  peoples  of  the  Scheldt  basin, 
around  Tournay  and  Ghent.  These  cantons  lay  almost 
waste,  and  were  divided  between  the  Salian  Franks  and 
the  Frisians.  The  pagan  inhabitants  still  adored  trees 
and  idols  in  the  sacred  groves.  The  saint  effected  much 
by  his  miracles,  but  more  by  the  authority  of  the  king, 
who  compelled  the  unbelieving  to  accept  Christianity. 


1 14 


Missions  in  Gaul  and  Germany 

Dagobert  ordered  that  those  who  refused  baptism  should 
be  forced  to  accept  it.  St.  Amand  founded  the  monastery 
of  Elnon,  which  afterward  took  his  name  and  became  a 
center  of  propaganda  for  the  entire  region,  and  a  medium 
of  agricultural  and  all  other  knowledge.  St.  Amand  was 
compelled  to  accept  the  bishopric  of  Maestricht.  In  the 
valley  of  the  Meuse  he  preached  not  only  to  the  pagans, 
but  also  to  those  who  were  Christians  only  in  name.  The 
opposition  of  wicked  priests  impelled  him  to  abandon  his 
see  (649).  In  vain  Pope  Martin  I,  who  loved  the  man 
and  was  much  interested  in  his  labors,  wrote  and  en¬ 
treated  him  not  to  be  discouraged.  He  wished  to  go  as 
a  missionary  to  the  Wends  and  Slavs.  He  had  his  wish, 
but  little  success  crowned  his  efforts,  and  he  returned  to 
Aquitaine.  There  he  founded  monasteries,  but  incurred 
the  jealousy  of  other  clerics,  and  enjoyed  little  genuine 
support  except  from  Sigibert  II,  the  pious  king  of  Aus- 
trasia. 

The  relations  of  Pope  Martin  I  with  St.  Amand  are 
interesting,  for  the  pope  had  adopted  the  policy  of  Greg¬ 
ory  the  Great,  and  sought  to  find  a  real  prop  in  the 
Franks.  He  had  just  launched  his  anathemas  against 
the  monothelitic  heretics,  and  wished  to  show  the  emperor 
that  he  was  the  head  of  the  Church  in  the  West.  He 
wrote  letters  to  St.  Amand,  to  Clovis  II,  king  of  Neus- 
tria  and  Burgundy,  and  to  the  bishops  of  Neustria.  He 
sent  them  the  acts  of  his  council,  and  demanded  that  the 
bishops  of  the  Frankish  kingdom  should  come  and  form 
a  part  of  the  delegation  which  he  planned  to  send  to  the 
emperor,  and  which  should  bear  to  his  imperial  majesty, 
in  the  name  of  the  Christianity  of  the  West,  the  decisions 

115 


Medieval  Civilization 


of  the  council  and  the  anathema  launched  against  heresy. 
This  very  significant  move  was  not  followed  up;  it  was 
unique  in  the  seventh  century ;  the  anarchy  and  power¬ 
lessness  of  the  Frankish  kingdoms  dissuaded  the  popes 
from  leaning  upon  them.  It  was  not  until  the  triumph 
of  the  Carolingian  house  that  relations  were  renewed  be¬ 
tween  the  Austrasian  chiefs  and  the  Church  of  Rome. 
The  first  step  in  this  renewed  intimacy  was  the  letter  of 
Gregory  II,  recommending  the  priests  whom  he  was  send¬ 
ing  into  Bavaria  (710).  From  this  time  the  relations 
were  intimate. 

While  Gallo-Romans,  like  St.  Amand,  strove  to  con¬ 
vert  the  infidels,  the  most  active  of  the  missionaries  of 
this  age  were  from  the  western  islands,  from  Ireland, 
and,  later,  from  Great  Britain. 

From  Ireland,  the  island  of  the  saints,  came  Columban, 
with  twelve  other  monks  of  Bangor.  He  entered  France 
in  585,  and  preached  with  prodigious  success.  King  Gun- 
tram  begged  him  to  reside  in  his  land.  He  was  a  true 
monk  of  the  early  times,  of  the  ascetic  age,  and  his  aus¬ 
terity  won  for  him  general  admiration.  The  rule  which 
he  imposed  upon  his  followers  was  harsh,  for  he  desired 
blind  obedience.  After  some  time  he  retired  to  the  bor¬ 
der-land  between  the  kingdoms  of  Burgundy  and  Aus- 
trasia,  in  the  Vosges  mountains.  There,  in  a  semi-desert 
land,  he  founded  four  monasteries,  Luxeuil  being  the 
principal  one.  Disciples  flocked  to  him,  in  spite  of  his 
severity  and  his  obstinate  adherence  to  the  peculiar  prac¬ 
tices  and  ideas  of  the  Celtic  Church.  He  was  an  ardent 
zealot,  aflame  for  the  work  of  the  Lord.  The  burden  of 
his  preaching  was  the  reformation  of  morals,  and  it  em- 

116 


Missions  in  Gaul  and  Germany 

broiled  him  with  the  great  men  of  the  land,  the  bishops 
and  the  princes,  for  he  “  scattered  the  divine  fire  on  all 
sides  without  care  for  the  conflagration.”  He  quarreled 
with  Brunhildis  and  her  son  Childebert,  and  his  inflexi¬ 
bility  won  for  him  expulsion  from  the  land.  He  took 
ship  at  Nantes,  but  directed  his  course  to  Neustria,  to 
the  court  of  Clothair  II.  Clothair  showed  much  defer¬ 
ence  to  the  saint  and  sought,  in  spite  of  his  remonstrances, 
to  retain  him  at  his  court.  Columban  passed  into  Aus- 
trasia,  and  received  an  equally  cordial  welcome  from 
Theudebert  II.  At  the  request  of  the  king  he  journeyed 
to  the  pagans  of  Alemannia.  He  interrupted  the  sacri¬ 
fices  to  Odin,  and  after  the  death  of  Theudebert  was 
driven  from  the  land  by  its  pagan  duke.  Entering  Italy, 
he  founded  the  monastery  of  Bobbio,  and  there  died,  in 
615,  in  the  midst  of  universal  veneration.  His  disciple, 
St.  Gall,  had  previously  withdrawn  to  the  mountain  fast¬ 
nesses  near  Lake  Constance.  The  latter’s  reputation  for 
sanctity  brought  him  many  companions,  and  his  hefc- 
mitage  became  a  monastery,  which  was  enriched  with 
gifts  and  was  one  of  the  most  celebrated  of  the  Middle 
Ages. 

Another  disciple  of  Columban,  Sigibert  by  name, 
founded  the  abbey  of  Disentis,  near  the  source  of  the 
Rhine.  In  the  high  valleys  of  the  Alps,  Christianity  had 
preserved  some  faithful  ones  ever  since  the  Roman  occu¬ 
pation.  And  so  the  missionaries  found  the  soil  of  these 
regions  better  prepared,  and  made  more  rapid  progress 
here  than  in  North  Germany.  Alemannia  and  old  Rhse- 
tia  were  brought  back  to  the  Christian  faith,  in  the  sev¬ 
enth  century  and  the  first  part  of  the  eighth.  The  two 

11 7 


Medieval  Civilization 


principal  monasteries  of  this  territory  were  Hornbach,  to 
the  north  of  the  Vosges,  and  Reichenau,  situated  on  an 
island  in  Lake  Constance.  These  communities,  and  sev¬ 
eral  others  which  were  organized  in  the  valley  of  the 
Rhine,  brought  under  cultivation  a  vast  extent  of  terri¬ 
tory,  and  soon  became  flourishing. 

Bavaria  was  entered  in  the  middle  of  the  seventh  cen¬ 
tury  by  the  monks  of  Luxeuil.  The  dukes  of  Bavaria, 
who  were  probably  of  Frankish  origin,  and  had  inter¬ 
married  with  the  Christian  Lombards,  showed  favor  to 
the  religion  of  civilized  Europe.  St.  Emmeran  obtained 
at  Ratisbon  the  general  conversion  of  the  Bavarians,  and 
his  work  was  finished  by  St.  Rupert.  Coming  from  the 
city  of  Worms,  St.  Rupert  made  many  journeys  and  be¬ 
came  thoroughly  familiar  with  Bavaria,  preaching  and 
baptizing  the  people,  ordaining  priests,  and  dedicating 
churches.  In  696  he  baptized  the  duke,  Theodo  I,  at 
Ratisbon.  He  it  was  who  built,  on  the  ruins  of  the 
Roman  city  of  Juvavium,  the  new  city  of  Salzburg,  in 
later  times  the  religious  metropolis  of  the  land ;  he  estab¬ 
lished  an  abbey  there,  and  obtained  its  first  monks  from 
Worms ;  the  abbot  bore  the  title  of  bishop.  About  this 
time  Corbinian  (730)  made  a  journey  to  Rome.  He  had 
prepared  himself  for  this  undertaking  by  fourteen  years 
of  asceticism,  and  the  pope  gave  him  the  pallium  and 
sent  him  into  Bavaria,  where  he  founded  the  church  of 
Freising.  Monasteries  multiplied  around  the  lakes  and 
in  the  Alpine  valleys  of  Bavaria.  In  716,  Duke  Theodo  II 
went  to  Rome  in  order  to  acquire  the  pure  faith  for 
himself  and  his  people.  He  and  his  successors,  Theude- 
bert,  Hubert,  Odilo,  and  Tassilo,  gave  great  gifts  to  the 

118 


Missions  in  Gaul  and  Germany 

churches  and  established  many  monasteries,  around 
which  cities  grew  up. 

North  of  Bavaria,  in  that  part  of  Thuringia  which  the 
Franks  had  conquered  in  the  fifth  and  sixth  centuries, 
the  Celtic  monk  Kilian  carried  Christianity  to  the  dwell¬ 
ers  on  the  banks  of  the  Main.  He  was  murdered  by  a 
Frankish  duke,  and  the  origin  of  the  church  of  Wurz¬ 
burg  is  attributed  to  him. 

All  through  this  zone  the  missionaries  encountered 
many  obstacles.  Unlike  the  valleys  of  the  Rhine  and 
the  Danube,  it  had  never  been  under  Roman  rule,  and  the 
paganism  which  survived  was  of  an  active  type.  The 
Frisians  and  Saxons  were  converted  only  by  force,  and 
the  work  demanded  atrocious  wars  and  methodical  mas¬ 
sacres.  The  Anglo-Saxon  monks,  protected  by  the  con¬ 
quering  Austrasians,  brought  to  the  work  of  conversion 
an  inexhaustible  devotion.  It  was  through  the  collabora¬ 
tion  of  the  Frankish  princes  with  the  monks  sent  out  by 
the  popes  that  the  relations  between  Rome  and  the  Caro- 
lingian  family  multiplied,  and  ultimately  resulted  in  the 
alliance  which  was  so  momentous  for  both.  Even  while 
they  were  personally  inaccessible  to  religious  ideas,  the 
Austrasian  princes  perceived  the  advantages  which 
flowed  to  them  from  the  work  of  the  missionaries. 
Conversion  to  Christianity  softened  the  manners  of  the 
Germans,  located  them  around  the  centers  of  civilization 
created  by  the  monks,  and  caused  them  to  submit  them¬ 
selves  to  the  ascendancy  of  their  ecclesiastical  leaders. 
Furthermore,  the  missionaries  explored  the  wooded  and 
little-known  districts,  and  served  as  excellent  gatherers  of 
information  for  a  proposed  expedition.  So  long,  too,  as 

119 


Medieval  Civilization 


the  conversion  of  a  people  was  only  partial,  the  Christian 
portion  of  the  population  necessarily  leaned  for  support 
upon  the  neighboring  Christian  nation. 

In  the  seventh  century  the  archbishop  of  York  and 
other  missionaries  undertook  to  lead  to  Christianity  the 
Frisians,  a  race  kin  to  the  Anglo-Saxons,  and  with  whom 
the  Anglo-Saxons  had  commercial  dealings.  The  results 
appear  to  have  been  slight  before  the  coming  of  St. 
Willibrod.  Taking  advantage  of  the  victories  of  Pepin 
of  Heristal  and  Charles  Martel,  and  of  the  consequent 
loss  of  strength  of  the  Frisians,  he  succeeded  in  convert¬ 
ing  all  of  southern  Frisia.  Here  he  founded  a  bishopric, 
and  at  the  solicitation  of  Pepin  (690)  was  invested  with 
it,  and  Utrecht  was  his  episcopal  seat.  Until  his  death, 
in  739,  he  continued  to  overturn  the  idols  and  combat 
paganism. 

The  history  of  the  mission  of  St.  Winfrith  is  much 
more  important.  This  Anglo-Saxon,  whose  ecclesiastical 
name  was  Boniface,  was,  by  virtue  of  his  submissiveness 
to  the  pope,  his  apostolic  zeal,  his  politic  mind,  and  his 
organizing  genius,  one  of  the  best  of  the  artisans  of 
Roman  greatness.  He  was  in  a  very  real  sense,  although 
indirectly,  one  of  the  chief  founders  of  the  Carolingian 
Empire.  He  was  born  in  672,  and  went  as  a  missionary 
to  Frisia  in  716.  The  moment  was  not  auspicious: 
Rathbod  was  at  war  with  Charles  Martel ;  he  had  ex¬ 
pelled  the  worshipers  of  God,  and  reestablished  the  wor¬ 
ship  of  idols  in  the  very  territory  where  it  had  been  pro¬ 
scribed  after  the  victories  of  Pepin  of  Heristal.  Boniface 
had  an  interview  with  Rathbod,  but  the  whole  result  of 
this  first  journey  was  that  he  found  no  place  open  to  his 


120 


Missions  in  Gaul  and  Germany 

preaching.  He  returned  to  England  in  717,  to  his  monas¬ 
tery  of  Nutsell,  near  Southampton;  in  718  he  departed 
for  Rome.  The  pope  gave  him  the  task  of  reconnoitering 
Germany.  He  journeyed  to  Frisia,  passing  through 
Bavaria  and  Thuringia. 

He  found  Rathbod  dead  (719),  Charles  Martel  victori¬ 
ous  over  the  Frisians,  and  southern  Frisia  handed  over  to 
the  Franks,  and  during  three  years  he  aided  archbishop 
Willibrod.  The  archbishop  offered  him  the  see  of  Frisia, 
but  he  declined  it.  He  now  went  to  the  country  of  the 
Chatti,  that  is  to  say,  to  modern  Hesse,  and  there  estab¬ 
lished  monastic  stations  and  built  churches.  In  722  he 
paid  a  second  visit  to  Rome. 

At  Rome  Pope  Gregory  II  consecrated  him  as  a  mis¬ 
sionary  bishop,  gave  him  a  writing  which  revealed  the 
papal  ideas  on  the  subject  of  ecclesiastical  government, 
and  bade  him  teach  them.  Boniface  swore  (we  have  his 
oath)  absolute  obedience  to  the  Roman  Church  ;  he  swore 
to  have  no  communion  with  prelates  who  to  his  know¬ 
ledge  professed  contrary  doctrines,  to  restore  them  to  the 
papal  obedience,  and  if  he  failed  in  this,  to  denounce  them 
to  the  pope,  his  master.  Thus  Boniface  is  the  apostle  of 
Catholic  unity  in  faith  and  discipline.  He  did  not  make 
a  distinction  between  the  Catholic  faith  and  obedience  to 
the  Holy  See,  after  the  fashion  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
ecclesiastics.  In  a  letter  to  Pope  Zacharias  (742)  he 
unites  the  two.  All  the  hearers  and  disciples  whom  God 
gave  him  in  his  legation  he  ceaselessly  strove  to  incline 
to  obedience  to  the  Apostolic  See.  When  in  722  he  re¬ 
turned  to  Germany,  he  carried  a  letter  of  recommenda¬ 
tion  from  the  pope  to  Charles  Martel :  “  Knowing  that 


121 


Medieval  Civilization 


you  have  on  many  occasions  demonstrated  your  affection 
for  religion,  we  recommend  to  you  Boniface,  who  goes 
to  convert  the  peoples  of  German  race,  and  others,  dwell¬ 
ing  east  of  the  Rhine.”  In  the  spring  of  723  Boniface 
presented  himself  at  the  court  of  Charles  Martel,  and 
received  a  document  placing  him  under  the  protection  of 
that  prince.  This  protection  was  indispensable  to  the  mis¬ 
sionary.  In  a  letter  to  Daniel,  bishop  of  Winchester, 
Boniface  says  clearly  that  without  the  patronage  of  the 
prince  of  the  Franks  he  could  not  govern  the  faithful 
children  of  the  Church,  could  not  protect  the  priests  and 
clerks,  the  monks  and  the  nuns,  nor  in  any  way  interdict 
pagan  rites  and  idolatry.  He  went  to  Hesse  first.  Near 
Fritzlar  he  overthrew  Odin’s  oak  and  employed  the  wood 
in  the  construction  of  a  chapel,  around  which  a  monas¬ 
tery  soon  rose.  He  entered  Thuringia  and  established 
thirty  parishes,  which  the  Saxons  soon  destroyed,  and 
the  monastery  of  Ordruf,  south  of  Gotha.  He  recog¬ 
nized  that  the  Germans  were  capable  of  comprehending 
the  sanctity  of  women.  He  established  monasteries  of 
nuns,  and  to  these  the  German  women  went  to  learn  the 
virtues  of  their  sex. 

The  speed  of  Boniface’s  missionary  work  was  so  great 
that  in  732  Gregory  III  sent  him  the  pallium  and  raised 
him  to  archiepiscopal  rank,  thus  adding  to  his  episcopal 
power  to  consecrate  priests  and  deacons  the  authority  to 
ordain  bishops. 

In  738  Boniface  journeyed  to  Rome  to  confer  with  the 
pontiff,  and  remained  in  the  Eternal  City  for  over  a  year. 
The  matter  under  discussion  was  the  organization  of 
the  Church  of  Germany.  In  his  earlier  missionary 


122 


Missions  in  Gaul  and  Germany 

labors  Boniface  had  found  the  clergy  of  Bavaria  and 
Alemannia — countries  which  had  long  been  Christianized 
by  Irish  and  Frankish  missionaries — little  disposed  to 
recognize  the  authority  of  the  Apostolic  See.  Intelligent 
and  energetic  men  like  Vergil  of  Salzburg  had  offered 
resistance,  and  Boniface  had  found  it  impossible  to  apply 
the  instructions  given  him  in  722.  Latterly,  however, 
the  success  of  Boniface’s  missionary  efforts  and  the  as¬ 
cendancy  of  his  protector,  the  prince  of  the  Franks,  had 
increased  his  authority.  When  he  left  Rome  he  carried 
letters  inviting  the  bishops  of  Bavaria  and  Alemannia 
to  meet  twice  a  year  in  synod,  and  to  make  submission 
to  the  authority  of  the  vicar  of  the  Holy  See,  Boniface. 
Hubert,  duke  of  Bavaria,  had  just  died,  and  his  succes¬ 
sor,  Odilo,  the  protege  and  son-in-law  of  Charles  Martel, 
was  favorably  disposed. 

With  his  assistance,  the  envoy  of  Rome  prevailed  and 
organized  the  Church  of  Bavaria.  He  established  the 
four  bishoprics  of  Ratisbon,  Salzburg,  Freising,  and  Pas- 
sau,  and  the  pope  approved  and  confirmed  his  work. 
His  letter  of  approval  concludes  with  this  recommenda¬ 
tion  :  “  Do  not  cease  to  teach  them  the  holy  Catholic 
and  apostolic  tradition  of  the  Roman  Church.” 

Boniface  continued  his  labors.  He  organized  eastern 
Austrasia,  the  later  Franconia.  Here  he  founded  the 
bishoprics  of  Wurzburg,  for  the  valley  of  the  Main ; 
Buraburg,  to  the  south  of  Fritzlar,  for  Hesse;  Erfurt, 
for  Thuringia ;  Eichstadt,  on  the  border  of  Bavaria,  for 
the  cantons  north  of  the  Danube,  which  were  soon  to  be 
detached  from  Odilo’s  duchy.  At  the  head  of  these 
bishoprics  he  placed  his  disciples,  men  who  were  abso- 

123 


Medieval  Civilization 


lutely  trustworthy.  One  of  them,  Willibald,  was  really 
a  remarkable  man.  He  made  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy 
Land,  lived  two  years  at  Constantinople  and  ten  years  at 
Monte  Cassino,  where  he  studied  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict. 
Carloman  protected  these  bishoprics,  endowed  them  with 
rich  lands  and  privileges,  and  had  churches  built  for 
them. 

In  744,  Sturmi,  one  of  Boniface’s  disciples,  founded 
the  abbey  of  Fulda.  His  master  had  charged  him  to  find 
a  monastic  retreat  in  the  forests  between  the  Main  and 
the  Weser.  He  finally  chose  Fulda.  Carloman  made  him 
a  gift  of  land  4000  feet  square,  and  invited  the  leading 
men  of  the  neighborhood  to  do  likewise,  and  in  a  few 
months  the  soil  was  cleared  and  the  monastery  built. 
Sturmi  went  to  Monte  Cassino  to  study  the  rule  of  St. 
Benedict,  and  was  the  first  abbot  of  this  model  monas¬ 
tery.  The  pope  conferred  upon  him  the  precious  privi¬ 
lege  of  holding  directly  from  him  (753).  Fulda  was 
the  first  exempt  monastery,  the  first  monastery  to  be 
withdrawn  from  the  jurisdiction  of  the  bishop.  Ten 
years  later,  it  had  over  four  hundred  monks.  Boniface 
lived  there,  by  preference,  and  chose  it  as  his  burial-place. 
Fulda  was  one  of  the  most  venerable  monastic  founda¬ 
tions  in  Germany,  and  one  of  those  which  contributed 
most  to  German  civilization  and  Christianity. 

In  741,  “  thanks  to  the  aid  of  God  and  the  suggestion 
of  Boniface,”  as  Willibald  puts  it,  a  council  was  as¬ 
sembled  for  Austrasia.  Boniface  wrote  Pope  Zacharias 
a  letter  in  which  he  told  him  that  Carloman,  dfike  of  the 
Franks,  had  earnestly  besought  him  to  call  together  a 
council  for  the  half  of  the  kingdom  which  he  held.  He 

124 


Missions  in  Gaul  and  Germany 

had  promised  the  duke,  said  Boniface,  to  reform  the 
Church,  which  for  sixty  or  seventy  years  had  been  in  a 
pitiable  condition.  For  eighty  years  no  synod  had  met, 
the  canons  had  been  disregarded,  and  the  churches  and 
monasteries  plundered.  Strictly  speaking,  we  should  call 
it  an  assembly  rather  than  a  council,  for  it  was  really  a 
meeting  of  the  nobles  of  Austrasia,  in  which  the  bishops 
sat  as  counselors.  The  bishops  nominated  by  Boniface 
were  confirmed,  and  Boniface  was  recognized  as  the 
archiepiscopal  envoy  of  St.  Peter.  It  was  decided  that 
annual  synods  should  be  held,  that  the  priests  should  be 
under  the  authority  of  the  bishop,  and  that  the  property 
which  had  been  stolen  from  the  churches  should  be  re¬ 
stored,  and  punishments  were  decreed  against  clerks  mis¬ 
conducting  themselves.  Clerks  whose  conduct  was  too 
immoral  (adulterers  or  fornicators)  were  to  be  deprived 
of  their  ecclesiastical  character,  and  a  general  prohibition 
was  laid  against  ecclesiastics  bearing  arms  or  hunting. 
Rules  were  also  laid  down  for  the  extirpation  of  pagan 
customs. 

In  745  a  general  council  was  called  for  the  whole 
Frankish  kingdom.  This  council  exhibits  the  progress 
made  by  pontifical  authority  under  the  labors  of  Boni¬ 
face.  The  evidence  is  supplied  by  two  very  important 
letters  which  the  pope  wrote,  one  to  Boniface  and  the 
other  to  the  ecclesiastics  and  laymen  of  the  Frankish 
realm.  We  learn  from  the  first  letter  that  the  council 
met  in  Frankish  territory,  at  the  command  of  the  pope. 
Pepin  and  Carloman  served  as  intermediaries ;  it  was 
they,  the  lay  authority,  who  “  procured  ”  the  meeting. 
Boniface,  as  the  representative  of  the  pope,  presided. 

125 


Medieval  Civilization 


The  pope  sketched  his  program  to  the  council :  meas¬ 
ures  against  false  bishops,  schismatics,  all  those  who  vio¬ 
lated  the  canonical  rules  or  the  Catholic  and  apostolic 
faith,  and  measures  to  gain  restoration  of  the  property  of 
the  Church.  The  pope  desired  Boniface  to  hold  a  council 
every  year,  in  his  name.  Cologne  was  designated  for 
Boniface’s  metropolitan  seat.  This  gave  his  title  of  arch¬ 
bishop  a  territorial  basis,  and  his  organization  of  the 
hierarchy  was  now  complete.  However,  in  the  following 
year,  political  motives  led  to  the  transfer  of  the  metro¬ 
politan  seat  to  Mainz,  which  thus  fell  heir  to  the  pre¬ 
cedence  which  Cologne  had  hitherto  enjoyed.  The 
bishoprics  of  Germany  and,  also,  Cologne,  Tongres, 
Worms,  Spires,  and  Utrecht  were  under  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  metropolitan.  But  Boniface  can  scarcely  be  said 
to  have  occupied  the  primate’s  seat  himself ;  one  of  his 
disciples  administered  the  archbishopric  as  adjunct,  while 
the  master  pursued  his  work  of  converting  pagans  and 
introducing  ecclesiastical  reform. 

The  Roman  discipline  was  not  established  in  Gaul  with¬ 
out  opposition.  Boniface  says,  in  one  of  his  letters  to 
Pope  Zacharias,  that  he  had  been  exposed,  in  the  course  of 
his  labors,  to  many  injuries  and  persecutions.  Two  of 
the  false  priests  of  whom  he  speaks — Adelbert,  a  Gaul, 
and  Clement,  a  Scot — were  particularly  objectionable. 
The  first  was  nothing  but  a  dreamer  and  charlatan,  per¬ 
forming  miracles  in  the  highways  and  byways,  and  gath¬ 
ering  around  himself  naive  folk  who  regarded  him  as  an 
apostle.  The  Scot  was  more  dangerous.  Boniface  says 
that  he  waged  war  on  the  Catholic  Church  and  scorned 
the  decisions  of  the  councils,  and  that  although  he  had 

126 


Missions  in  Gaul  and  Germany 

a  son  born  in  adultery  (this  is  the  name  Boniface  gives 
to  the  marriage  of  a  priest),  he  still  considered  that  he 
could  be  a  bishop.  More  than  once  these  two  insurgents 
had  been  condemned ;  they  had  even  been  put  in  prison, 
but  they  were  liberated  and  resumed  their  old  practices. 
They  were  cited  before  the  pope  and  condemned  at  a 
synod  in  Rome.  Two  years  later,  the  pope  complained  of 
their  persistence  in  wrong-doing.  Such  defiance  was  un¬ 
usual  in  a  later  day,  when  the  papal  power  was  firmly 
established. 

In  748  Boniface  presided  over  one  of  the  annual  coun¬ 
cils,  and  caused  the  bishops  to  swear  to  a  formula  of 
entire  submission  to  the  See  of  Rome:  “We  have  de¬ 
clared  and  decreed  that  we  would  maintain  and  protect 
until  the  end  of  our  life  Catholic  faith  and  unity,  and 
submission  to  the  Roman  Church,  St.  Peter,  and  his 
vicar ;  that  we  would  meet  together  each  year  in  synod ; 
that  the  metropolitans  should  apply  to  the  See  of  Rome 
for  the  pallium,  and  that  we  would  canonically  follow  all 
the  precepts  of  St.  Peter,  in  order  that  we  might  be  num¬ 
bered  among  his  sheep.  And  we  have  all  consented  and 
subscribed  our  names  to  this  oath,  and  have  sent  it  to  be 
deposited  on  the  tomb  of  St.  Peter,  prince  of  the  apostles ; 
and  the  clergy  and  the  pontiff  of  Rome  have  received 
it  with  joy.  ...  If  any  bishop  is  unable  to  correct  or 
reform  any  matter  in  his  diocese,  let  him  bring  it  up  in 
the  synod,  before  the  archbishop  and  all  the  assistants ; 
for  we  have  ourselves  promised  the  Roman  Church  with 
an  oath,  that  if  we  should  see  priests  or  peoples  depart¬ 
ing  from  the  way  of  God,  and  should  be  unable  to  cor¬ 
rect  them  ourselves,  we  would  faithfully  report  the  affair 

127 


Medieval  Civilization 


to  the  Apostolic  See  and  the  vicar  of  St.  Peter,  so  that 
the  reformation  in  question  might  be  accomplished.  It 
is  in  this  manner  that  all  the  bishops  should  report  to 
the  metropolitan,  and  the  metropolitan  to  the  Roman  pon¬ 
tiff,  all  the  reforms  which  they  do  not  succeed  in  carry¬ 
ing  out  among  their  peoples.  In  this  way  the  blood  of 
lost  souls  will  not  be  upon  their  heads.” 

The  government  of  the  supreme  pontiff,  which  had  been 
established  in  the  new  countries  of  England  and  Ger¬ 
many,  was  henceforth  accepted  by  the  old  Church  of  Gaul. 
The  Gallic  .Church  was  purified,  disciplined,  and  subor¬ 
dinated  to  one  commander,  and  the  great  part  it  has 
played  in  Gaul  is  well  known. 

The  founder  of  the  Church  of  Germany,  the  restorer 
of  the  Gallo-Frankish  churches,  was  above  all  an  apostle. 
It  was  his  desire  to  end  his  life  in  missionary  labors,  and 
he  deliberately  sought  the  crown  of  martyrdom.  In  755 
he  went  to  Frisia,  and  on  the  banks  of  the  Bourda  was 
surrounded  by  infuriated  pagans.  He  forbade  his  com¬ 
panions  to  repel  force  by  force,  and  the  pagans,  “  by  a 
beneficent  murder,  caused  the  blood  to  flow  from  their 
sacred  bodies.”  In  the  abbey  of  Fulda  the  body  of 
Boniface,  the  tireless  missionary,  was  laid  at  rest. 


128 


The  Economic  Influence  of 
Monasteries 


Cunningham:  An  Essay  on  Western  Civilisation  in  its  Economic 
Aspects  ( Mediceval  and  Modern  Tunes),  pp.  35-40. 

IN  the  four  preceding  sections  an  attempt  has  been 
made  to  show  how  Christian  teaching  and  ecclesiasti¬ 
cal  authority  were  brought  to  bear  in  favour  of  securing 
law  and  order  throughout  Western  Europe,  and  thereby 
helped  to  provide  the  conditions  essential  for  material 
progress.  When  we  turn  to  another  side  of  religious  life, 
and  consider  the  results  of  the  founding  of  monasteries, 
we  find  influences  at  work  that  were  plainly  economic. 
These  communities  can  be  best  understood  when  we 
think  of  them  as  Christian  industrial  colonies,  and  re¬ 
member  that  they  moulded  society  by  example  rather 
than  by  precept. 

We  are  so  familiar  with  the  attacks  and  satires  on 
monastic  life  that  were  current  at  the  Reformation  period 
that  it  may  seem  almost  a  paradox  to  say  that  the  chief 
claim  of  the  monks  to  our  gratitude  lies  in  this,  that  they 
helped  to  diffuse  a  better  appreciation  of  the  duty  and 
dignity  of  labour.  By  the  “  religious,”  manual  labour  was 
accepted  as  a  discipline  which  helped  them  to  walk  in 
the  way  of  eternal  salvation ;  it  was  not  undertaken  for 

129 


Medieval  Civilization 


the  sake  of  reward,  since  the  proceeds  were  to  go  to  the 
use  of  the  community  or  the  service  of  the  poor ;  it  was 
not  viewed  as  drudgery  that  had  to  be  gone  through  from 
dread  of  punishment.  There  was  neither  greed  of  gain 
nor  the  reluctant  service  of  the  slave,  but  simply  a  sense 
of  a  duty  to  be  done  diligently  unto  the  Lord.  It  may 
be  said  that  this  side  of  the  monastic  life  was  specially 
accentuated  as  early  as  the  fifth  century,  because  of  ex¬ 
cesses  and  irregularities  that  had  even  then  brought  scan¬ 
dal  on  the  religious  profession.1  S.  Augustine  insisted 
on  the  duty  of  honest  labour ;  and  this  element  of  dis¬ 
ciplined  life  found  a  prominent  place  in  the  rule  which 
S.  Benedict  drew  up  for  the  guidance  of  his  monks.2 
The  practice,  which  crept  in  later,  of  regarding  writing 
or  illuminating  as  manual  industry,  tended  to  the  preser¬ 
vation  of  ancient  learning,  but  it  introduced  a  disastrous 
division  of  employment  within  the  community ;  and  the 
example  set  by  monastic  institutions,  as  Christian  col¬ 
onies,  became  much  less  telling  after  the  tenth  century.3 
Till  that  time  it  may  be  said  that  they  were  living  testi¬ 
monies  to  the  duty  of  labour,  and  set  forth  the  true  charac¬ 
ter  and  dignity  of  honest  work.4 

The  wickedness  of  the  Merovingian  rulers  was  so 
gross  and  palpable,  that  we  can  scarcely  help  feeling 
that  their  nominal  Christianity  was  an  added  offence. 
Nevertheless,  the  fact  that  they  made  a  profession  of 

1  S.  Augustine,  De  op.  monach.,  c.  36. 

2  Reg.  S.  Benedict,  cap.  XLVIII.  De  opere  manuum  quotidiano. 

3  Levasseur,  Histoire  des  classes  ouvrieres  en  France,  I,  144. 

4  Cunningham,  Modern  Civilisation,  201.  This  conviction  about 
labour,  together  with  the  inculcation  of  respect  for  life  and  prop¬ 
erty,  are  the  fundamental  principles  in  Christian  economic  teach¬ 
ing. 


130 


Economic  Influence  of  Monasteries 


Christianity  had  real  importance.  There  was  at  least 
this  difference  between  the  Frankish  monarchs  and  their 
Saxon  or  Danish  neighbours,  that  the  former  encouraged 
the  planting  of  these  Christian  colonies,1  while  the  latter 
continued  to  destroy  them.  Whenever  and  from  what¬ 
ever  motive  a  Benedictine  monastery  was  founded  in 
France,  a  little  territory  was  reclaimed,  and  a  new  centre 
of  civilisation  was  established.  Much  good  work  was 
accomplished  by  the  monks  in  the  keeping  a  love  of  learn¬ 
ing  2  alive  through  the  Dark  Ages ;  and  it  is  easy  to 
show  that  their  manual  activity  had  great  influence  as 
an  element  in  material  progress,  and  that  they  did  not  a 
little  to  disseminate  the  industrial  arts,  to  improve  agri¬ 
culture,  and  to  develop  more  regular  commercial  inter¬ 
course. 

Considerable  tracts  of  Gaul  had  reverted  to  mere  for¬ 
est  3  under  the  combined  pressure  of  Roman  misgov- 
ernment  and  barbarian  invasion ;  there  was  hard  work 
to  be  done  in  reclaiming  land  for  tillage,  and  frequent 
danger  from  the  brigands,  and  even  the  wild  animals  that 
had  come  to  haunt  the  secluded  neighbourhoods  where 
monasteries  were  planted.  Each  of  the  Benedictine 
houses  was  primarily  a  model  farm,  preserving  the  exter¬ 
nal  aspects  of  a  Roman  villa,4  and  prosecuting  agricul- 

1  By  endowments  of  land,  and  by  immunities  which  gave  freedom 
from  toll,  rights  to  the  profits  of  jurisdiction  and  rights  to  take 
toll.  Berthelot,  in  Lavisse  et  Rambaud,  Histoire  g^ne'rale,  I,  339. 

2  S.  R.  Maitland,  Dark  Ages,  172. 

3  Montalembert,  Monks  of  the  West,  II,  p.  316. 

4  Paillard  de  St.  Aignan,  Changements  de  l’Etat  social  en  Bel¬ 
gique  in  Me'moires  de  l’Acade'mie  royale  de  Bruxelles  (1844), 
XVI,  p.  68.  For  a  description  of  the  Roman  Villa,  see  Meitzen, 
Siedelung  und  Agrarwesen,  I,  352. 

131 


Medieval  Civilization 


ture  according  to  the  recognised  methods.  It  may  be 
impossible  to  distinguish  the  improvements  in  cereals  or 
breeds  which  were  due  to  the  monks,  from  those  that 
were  introduced  by  the  Romans  into  Gaul  and  Britain, 
but  at  least  we  may  say  that  the  religious  colonists  main¬ 
tained  the  practice  of  tillage  in  places  where  it  was  in 
danger  of  being  forgotten  altogether. 

The  monastery  perpetuated  the  traditions  of  the  Roman 
villa,  not  merely  in  regard  to  the  cultivation  of  the  soil, 
but  in  its  industrial  activity  as  well.1  It  was  essential 
for  the  prosperity  of  these  establishments  that  they 
should  be,  so  far  as  possible,  self-sufficing,  and  that  the 
monks  should  be  able  to  provide  necessary  clothing  and 
to  repair  the  implements  of  husbandry  without  relying 
on  outside  help.  The  abbot  was,  therefore,  bound  to  or¬ 
ganise  the  available  labour  so  as  to  obtain  the  best  results 
for  the  community — he  might  set  an  artisan  to  work  at 
his  own  trade ;  but  the  conception  of  personal  reward 
was  rigidly  excluded,  and  the  skilled  labourer  was  dis¬ 
couraged  from  taking  a  pride  in  his  work : 2  all  was  to 
be  done  as  part  of  the  service  of  God,  and  for  the  advan¬ 
tage  of  the  community,  in  strict  subordination  to  the 
directions  of  the  abbot.3  The  Celtic  tradition,  as  we 
find  it  in  S.  Columbanus,  is  equally  strict  in  enjoining 
the  duty  of  assiduous  manual  labour,4  and  the  founders 
of  the  reformed  orders— the  Cistercians  and  Carthusians 

1  Levasseur,  I,  136,  to  which  I  am  indebted  for  many  of  the  sub¬ 
joined  references. 

2  Reg.  S.  Benedict,  cap.  LVII. 

3  J.  Cassianus,  De  coenobiorum  institutis,  IV,  cap.  XII. 

4  See  authorities  in  Levasseur,  I,  138. 

132 


Economic  Influence  of  Monasteries 

—reverted  strenuously  to  this  ideal,  from  which  the  Bene¬ 
dictines  had  fallen  away.1 

The  most  striking  picture  of  this  side  of  monastic  life 
is  to  be  found  in  the  description  of  the  monastery  at 
Solignac,  which  was  founded  in  a.d.  631  by  S.  Eligius, 
the  celebrated  goldsmith,  with  the  aid  of  his  royal  mas¬ 
ter,  Dagobert.  It  contained  at  one  time  as  many  as  five 
hundred  brethren ;  it  was  so  well  organised  that  the 
Archbishop  of  Rouen  held  it  up  as  a  model  for  all  other 
establishments.  Among  the  residents  were  great  num¬ 
bers  of  artisans,  who  were  skilled  in  different  trades,  and 
trained  as  Christians  to  render  prompt  obedience.2  When 
we  remember  how  easily  the  secret  of  a  manual  art  may 
be  lost,  we  cannot  but  feel  how  much  the  industry  of  me¬ 
diaeval  Europe  owed  to  the  scattered  centres  where  an 
unbroken  tradition  of  skilled  labour  was  maintained,  in 
the  seclusion  of  the  monastery  and  under  vows  of  obe¬ 
dience.3 

In  so  far  as  the  monasteries  developed  special  indus¬ 
trial  activity,  they  would  have  surplus  commodities  which 
it  was  advantageous  to  sell ;  in  some  cases  they  might 

1  As  the  Benedictine  monks  confined  themselves  to  artistic  or 
literary  labour,  they  were  dependent  on  outside  help  for  the  neces¬ 
saries  of  life,  and  their  houses  came  to  be  the  nuclei  round  which 
towns  grew  up.  Levasseur,  I,  141. 

2  Vita  S.  Eligii,  c.  XVI. 

3  See  below,  Appendix  [to  Cunningham] .  Household  arts  would 
also  be  perpetuated  by  the  nuns,  who  devoted  themselves  to  ordi¬ 
nary  domestic  duties  in  the  kitchen  and  laundry,  and  also  to  the 
textile  arts,  including  spinning  and  dyeing,  and  to  such  fine  arts 
as  embroidery.  Levasseur,  I,  139.  Eckenstein,  Woman  under 
Monasticism,  p.  222  and  fol.  There  would  be  much  economic 
convenience  in  the  double  monasteries  like  that  of  Hilda  at  Whitby 
or  the  houses  of  Gilbert  of  Sempringham. 

133 


Medieval  Civilization 


require  to  purchase  materials  for  their  industry;  at  any 
rate,  it  was  only  natural  that  they  should  develop  a  com¬ 
mercial  side,  and  thus  be  brought  as  communities  into 
constant  economic  relation  with  the  outside  world.  This 
important  business  was  assigned  to  an  official  specially 
selected  for  the  purpose— the  negotiator  ecclesice;  1  and 
the  principles  of  fair  dealing,  by  which  he  should  be 
guided,  were  carefully  laid  down.  The  “  immunities  ” 
granted  to  abbeys  by  the  Merovingian  kings  enabled  the 
inmates  to  purchase  the  goods  they  required  and  to  trans¬ 
mit  them  free  of  toll ;  the  religious  houses  gradually 
increased  their  commercial  connections,  and  not  only 
bought  for  themselves,  but  traded  on  a  considerable  scale. 
The  wine  of  Burgundy  was  transported  in  large  quanti¬ 
ties  down  the  Seine  by  the  negotiators  of  S.  Wandrille, 
Jumieges  and  Fecamp;  and  Rouen  2  served  as  a  port 
from  which  it  could  be  shipped  across  the  sea.  Our 
best  evidence  of  the  early  development  of  the  clothing 
trades  in  Flanders  comes  from  the  fact  that,  in  the  eighth 
century,  the  agents  of  the  monks  of  S.  Wandrille  went 
thither  to  purchase  woollen  stuffs ;  while  the  merchants 
of  Priim  are  mentioned  as  travelling  to  Aix,  Cologne, 
Coblenz,  and  other  towns  along  the  Rhine.3  After  the 
establishment  of  the  Carolingian  Empire  there  was  an 
extension  of  this  monastic  trading,  and  Louis  the  Debon- 

1  Negociator  ergo  Ecclesiae  tabs  sit,  ut  nunquam,  vel  raro  decipi 
valeat  et  studiose  neminen  ipse  decipiat:  qui  nec,  ut  charius  ven- 
dat,  nec  ut  vilius  emat,  ore  suo  fallaciam  proferat,  vel  juramentum 
ab  his  exigat  aut  ipse  exhibeat.  Reg.  B.  Petri  de  Honestis,  III, 
c.  XXIX. 

2  De  Freville,  Commerce  maritime  de  Rouen,  p.  50.  , 

3  Imbart  de  la  Tour,  Des  immunit6s  commerciales  in  Etudes  du 
Moyen  Age,  dddiees  a  G.  Monod,  p.  74. 

134 


Economic  Influence  ot  Monasteries 


nairre  granted  to  the  monks  of  Tours  freedom  from  toll 
in  Provence  and  Italy,  and  throughout  his  dominions.1 

The  existence  of  this  large  trade  gave  the  monasteries 
a  commercial  as  well  as  a  religious  interest  in  the  im¬ 
provement  of  internal  communications.  The  repair  of 
bridges  and  maintenance  of  roads  was,  it  is  true,  an 
obligation  on  landowners  generally,2  but  it  was  also 
regarded  as  a  pious  labour,  and  is  treated  as  such  in  the 
beautiful  legend  3  of  S.  Christopher.  This  useful  work 
was  undertaken  by  many  of  the  abbeys,  and  in  the  twelfth 
century  some  religious  houses  were  specially  founded  to 
perform  the  duty.4  We  can  also  trace  the  beginnings  of 
a  regular  system  of  transport.  The  great  abbeys  on  the 
Loire  and  the  Seine  had  large  numbers  of  vessels  for  car¬ 
rying  on  their  trade ;  and  the  peasants  on  their  estates 
were  required  either  to  provide  oxen  and  carriages  for 
land  transport,  or  to  pay  a  commutation  which  enabled 
the  monks  to  organise  an  independent  service.5  The 
foundations  of  this  traffic  were  laid  before  the  time  of 
Charles  the  Great ;  but  under  his  protecting  care  it  was 
greatly  expanded,  so  that  religious  houses  became  the 
chief  centres  of  mercantile  activity.  When  we  realise 
the  extent  to  which  this  commercial  side  of  monastic  life 
was  developed,  we  can  the  better  understand  why  Danish 
raids  were  so  frequently  directed  against  these  establish¬ 
ments.6  Perhaps  they  paid  an  even  heavier  penalty  for 

1  Levasseur,  I,  141. 

2  Capitulare,  A.D.  803;  Migne,  I,  col.  254,  c.  18. 

3  A.  Jameson,  Sacred  and  Legendary  Art,  II,  433. 

*  Levasseur,  I,  143. 

5  Imbart  de  la  Tour,  op.  cit.  75,  76. 

6  Keary,  The  Vikings  in  Western  Christendom,  127. 

135 


Medieval  Civilization 


their  commercial  success :  for  devout  men  seem  to  have 
felt,  as  early  as  the  ninth  century,  that  there  was  a  danger 
that  the  business  enterprises  of  the  monasteries  would 
divert  the  brethren  from  sacred  occupations.1 

1  Levasseur,  I,  143.  Also  Capit.  Migne,  I,  col.  227,  c.  17. 


136 


Cluny 


Adapted  from  A.  Luchaire,  in  Lavisse:  Histoire  de  France, 
Vol.  II,  Part  II,  1901,  pp.  123-132. 

HE  great  house  of  Cluny  is  the  typical  exempt  abbey 


JL  and  the  highest  manifestation  of  monastic  power. 
It  wielded  an  unrivaled  authority  over  peoples  and  kings, 
precisely  because  it  stood,  better  than  any  other  abbey, 
for  resistance  to  feudalism,  and  contemned  the  lower 
things  of  life.  When  the  papacy  undertook  to  subordi¬ 
nate  the  faithful  of  Europe  to  itself,  and  thus  regenerate 
them,  its  missionaries  and  soldiers  were  recruited  from 
monastic  Cluny,  whose  aspirations  were  in  accord  with 
its  own.  Henceforward,  the  Cluniac  community  de¬ 
veloped  with  such  prodigious  rapidity  that  the  secular 
Church  was  alarmed.  The  unparalleled  prosperity  of 
Cluny  was  due  to  its  institutions,  but  also,  in  no  small 
measure,  to  the  remarkable  men  whom  it  had  the  good 
fortune  or  cleverness  to  place  at  its  head. 

.  The  prime  characteristic  of  the  new  monasticism  was 
/its  absolute  independence  of  the  lay  powers.  It  was  need¬ 
ful  that  there  should  be  a  reaction  against  one  of  the 
most  typical  abuses  of  the  tenth  century — the  invasion 
of  the  cloister  by  worldly  dukes  and  counts,  who  obtained 
the  position  of  abbot  that  they  might  the  more  effectually 
appropriate  the  possessions  of  the  monastery.  Cluny,  the 


137 


Medieval  Civilization 


model  abbey,  was  to  be  an  island  of  autonomy  in  the 
midst  of  an  ocean  of  jurisdictions  and  feudal  servitudes. 
William  of  Aquitaine,  its  founder,  recognized  this  neces¬ 
sity  in  his  deed  of  gift  (910  a.d.)  :  “  It  has  seemed  good 
to  me  to  determine,  by  this  charter,  that  from  this  day 
the  monks  shall  be  withdrawn  from  all  lay  dominion,  [ 
whether  of  ourselves,  our  relations,  or  even  the  king.” 
Cluny  was  happily  located  for  independence— in  Bur¬ 
gundy,  a  neutral  zone  between  France  and  Germany, 
where  the  authority  of  the  king  and  that  of  the  emperor 
were  in  such  equilibrium  that  they  annulled  each  other. 
The  duke  of  Burgundy  possessed  only  nominal  authority ; 
his  suzerain,  the  king  of  France,  was  involved  in  unsuc¬ 
cessful  conflicts  with  his  great  vassals,  or  with  the  Nor¬ 
mans  ;  no  circumstances  could  be  more  favorable  for 
Cluny.  Charles  the  Simple,  the  contemporary  of  its 
founder,  paid  no  attention  to  it,  and  Louis  d’Outremer 
could  only  confirm  the  privilege  which  made  the  abbey 
completely  independent  of  the  temporal  power  (939). 
From  its  inception,  Cluny  held  of  no  secular  master. 

It  was  necessary  that  the  monks  should  be  able  to  elect 
their  abbot  freely,  untouched  by  any  lay  influence  or 
any  external  pressure  whatsoever.  This  principle  was 
laid  down  by  William  of  Aquitaine  himself.  But  the 
unconditional  exercise  of  such  electoral  freedom  might 
not  have  been  safe.  It  was  to  be  feared  that  the  monks, 
invested  with  this  right,  might  so  far  yield  to  the  man¬ 
ners  of  the  age  as  to  leave  the  door  open  to  external 
intervention.  Consequently,  the  first  abbots  participated 
in  the  choice  of  their  successors.  Each  of  them  chose  a 
coadjutor,  and,  before  death,  recommended  him  to  the 

138 


votes  of  the  community.  Their  authority  was  so  great 
that  such  a  recommendation  was  always  ratified  by  the 
chapter,  from  the  foundation  of  the  monastery  until  1049. 
In  that  year  another  plan  was  followed,  which  was 
equally  efficacious  in  preserving  the  monks  from  caprice 
or  external  interference.  This  was  to  regard  the  grand 
prior,  the  dignitary  who  took  the  place  of  the  abbot  when 
disabled,  as  virtually  marked  out  for  election  as  next  suc¬ 
cessor. 

The  Cluniacs  were  exempt  from  the  authority  of  the 
bishop  of  Macon,  in  whose  diocese  they  were  located ; 
but  they  were,  none  the  less,  a  part  of  the  great  ecclesi¬ 
astical  organism.  Their  founder  had,  at  the  very  begin¬ 
ning,  attached  them  to  the  center  of  Christianity,  the 
Roman  Church.  The  gift  of  910  placed  the  monastery 
under  the  protection  of  the  apostles  Peter  and  Paul,  and 
transferred  to  them  all  the  property  rights  which  William 
of  Aquitaine  exercised  over  his  villa  of  Cluny.  Every 
five  years  the  monks  were  bound  to  make  a  payment  at 
Rome  of  ten  golden  sous  for  the  maintenance  of  the 
light  in  the  apostolic  church,  and  Cluny  belonged  to  the 
Holy  See  as  an  inalienable  property  which  was  vested 
in  it,  solely  for  the  purpose  of  protection.  And,  as¬ 
suredly,  the  new  abbey  could  undergo  no  lighter  or  less 
dangerous  subjection  than  that  of  an  authority  suffi¬ 
ciently  imposing  to  render  efficacious  protection,  even  at 
a  distance ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  so  far  removed  and 
relatively  weak  in  material  resources  that  it  could  not 
excite  the  fears  of  its  ward.  To  be  sure,  this  was  not 
the  first  time  that  a  French  monastery  was  made  directly 
dependent  upon  the  pope,  but  the  example  of  Cluny  ren- 

139 


Medieval  Civilization 


dered  the  practice  contagious.  It  is  in  this  way  that 
there  arose  those  intimate  relations  between  the  papacy 
and  the  heads  of  the  abbey — the  close  community  of  ideas 
and  interests  which  united  them,  the  frequent  visits  of 
the  abbots  to  Italy  and  their  long  sojourns  in  the  capital 
of  the  apostles.  As  counselors  and  official  diplomatists 
of  the  Roman  power,  they  lent  their  aid  in  times  of  peril, 
and  served  as  intermediaries  at  the  courts  of  kings. 
When  the  reform  crisis  came,  the  bond  uniting  the 
papacy  and  Cluny  grew  closer.  Popes  and  abbots,  united 
for  war  as  for  peace,  then  attacked  the  same  abuses, 
struggled  against  the  same  enemies,  and  repulsed  the 
same  assaults.  The  identification  became  complete  when 
Urban  II,  a  militant  Cluniac,  ascended  the  papal  throne. 

The  papacy  is  not  in  Cluny ’s  debt.  From  the  time 
that  John  XI,  in  931,  solemnly  confirmed  the  clauses  of 
the  charter  of  foundation,  the  popes  of  the  tenth  and 
eleventh  centuries  vied  with  one  another  in  legislating 
in  favor  of  the  great  monastery.  They  recognized  its 
right  to  coin  a  special  money ;  they  freed  it  from  obedi¬ 
ence  to  the  diocesan  bishop ;  they  forbade  any  bishop  to 
excommunicate  it,  and  conferred  upon  the  head  of  the 
abbey  the  episcopal  insignia  and  the  title  of  “  arch¬ 
abbot.”  They  sent  legates  whose  special  mission  it  was 
to  defend  the  order,  and  chastise  those  who  attacked  it. 
They  encouraged,  in  every  possible  way,  the  faithful  who 
desired  to  enrich  the  monastery;  for  was  not  a  gift  to 
Cluny  a  gift  to  the  holy  apostles,  proprietors  of  the  abbey 
and  of  the  Church  universal  ?  Gifts  and  legacies  rained 
upon  the  monastery  from  all  parts  of  France  and  of  the 
world.  A  host  of  new  monasteries  were  dedicated  to 

140 


St.  Peter,  and  incorporated  in  the  Cluniac  Church. 
Flourishing  abbeys  placed  themselves  under  its  yoke, 
in  order  to  enjoy  the  benefits  attached  to  the  observance 
of  its  rule  and  the  protection  of  the  Holy  See. 

Fifty  years  after  its  foundation,  the  modest  religious 
house  in  which  William  of  Aquitaine  had  placed  twelve 
monks — the'  little  abbey  hidden  among  the  high,  wooded 
hills  of  the  valley  of  the  Grosne— attracted  the  attention 
and  the  riches  of  all  Europe.  At  the  end  of  two  cen¬ 
turies,  it  was  the  capital  of  the  vastest  monastic  empire 
Christianity  had  ever  known.  Out  of  its  French  pos¬ 
sessions,  Cluny  ultimately  erected  seven  provinces ;  and 
England,  Germany,  Poland,  Italy,  and,  in  an  especial 
degree,  Spain  were  filled  with  its  priories.  The  extraor¬ 
dinary  influence  which  Cluny  exerted  upon  the  minds 
of  men  of  all  social  classes  may  be  measured  by  the  ex¬ 
tent  of  its  domination. 

The  empire  of  Cluny  formed  an  organism,  and  this  was 
another  novelty  in  the  monastic  world.  To  the  end  that 
it  might  have  a  powerful  and  far-extending  sway,  Cluny 
made  itself  a  “  congregation.”  In  those  days  of  the 
indefinite  subdivision  of  jurisdiction  and  sovereignty,  the 
system  of  isolation  was  perilous  for  the  clergy  of  the 
cloisters,  for  it  left  them  defenseless  before  the  lay  lords. 
The  vital  interests  of  monachism  demanded  that  it  should 
be  made  into  a  body  capable  of  moving  and  acting  har¬ 
moniously  and  promptly,  under  the  impulse  of  one  mas¬ 
ter  will.  In  Cluny,  the  principle  of  unity  and  the  main¬ 
spring  of  centralization  were  to  be  found  in  the  power 
entrusted  to  the  chief  of  the  community. 

The  omnipotence  of  the  abbot  was  an  essential  princi- 
141 


Medieval  Civilization 


pie  among  the  monks  of  the  West,  and  the  government 
of  a  Benedictine  abbey  bore  a  close  resemblance  to  that 
of  an  absolute  monarchy.  The  organization  of  the  con¬ 
gregation  of  Cluny  demanded  only  that  this  direct  power 
of  the  abbot  should  be  applied  to  all  the  monasteries  of 
the  order.  Accordingly,  in  the  dependent  monasteries 
the  title  of  abbot  was  suppressed,  and  their  heads  took 
the  significant  name  of  “  priors.”  There  was  but  one 
abbot  for  the  whole  organism— the  head  of  the  mother 
monastery ;  and  he  was  the  immediate  sovereign  of  the 
great  abbey,  and  of  all  the  smaller  ones.  The  head  of 
an  affiliated  establishment  was  not  elected  directly  by 
his  own  monks,  but  nominated  by  the  abbot-general. 
This  right  of  nomination  was  a  daring  novelty,  and  was 
opposed  to  tradition,  to  the  Benedictine  rule,  and  to  the 
sacred  principle  of  the  freedom  of  abbatial  elections.  It 
stirred  up  lively  resistance  and  terrible  tempests.  But 
such  a  vast  and  rigorously  centralized  dominion  is  not 
founded  by  peace  alone. 

A  certain  number  of  abbeys  refused  to  allow  them¬ 
selves  to  be  swallowed  up  in  the  congregation  without 
protesting.  They  declined  to  surrender  the  rank  which 
was  theirs,  by  reason  of  the  number  of  their  priors,  the 
fame  of  their  relics,  and  the  antiquity  of  their  origin. 
They  refused  to  accept  with  a  good  grace  the  abbots  and 
monks  sent  to  them  from  Burgundy,  and  clung  obsti¬ 
nately  to  their  autonomy.  Opposition  sprang  up,  for 
example,  in  northern  as  well  as  in  southern  France;  and 
it  was  fanned  by  jealous  bishops  who  were  suspicious  of 
the  growing  power  of  Cluny.  Conflicts  of  an  extreme 
violence  demonstrated  to  the  Cluniacs  that  they  were 


142 


assuming  too  heavy  a  burden,  and  that  the  whole  reli¬ 
gious  world  was  not  disposed  to  enter  into  their  obedi¬ 
ence. 

The  abbey  of  St.  Martial  at  Limoges  began  the  strug¬ 
gle  in  1063,  and  would  hardly  admit  that  it  was  beaten 
in  1240.  Many  others  resisted  annexation,  and  the  con¬ 
sequent  disorders  now  and  then  involved  the  effusion  of 
blood.  The  intensity  of  these  quarrels  is  explained  by 
the  desire  to  escape  reform  and  the  rigors  of  the  Cluniac 
rule,  and  by  the  spirit  of  independence  and  regional 
particularism.  But  Cluny  shattered  or  turned  the  ob¬ 
stacles,  and  the  victory  rested  with  her.  If  the  work  of 
centralization  was  not  always  disinterested,  if  it  was 
accomplished  in  several  cases  with  blameworthy  harsh¬ 
ness,  the  abbots-general,  backed  up  by  opinion  and  strain¬ 
ing  their  energies  under  the  firm  conviction  of  the 
utility  and  grandeur  of  the  enterprise,  stubbornly  re¬ 
fused  to  yield,  and,  in  particular,  to  surrender  the  direct 
nomination  of  the  priors.  Their  goal  was  to  liberate  the 
cloisters  from  simony,  irregularity,  and  moral  and  mate¬ 
rial  disorder,  and  to  regenerate  the  monastic  world 
through  the  lesson  of  obedience,  so  that  it  might  become 
the  instrument  of  the  reform  and  emancipation  of  the 
Church.  Despite  all  difficulties,  the  congregation  won 
the  day. 

Contact  between  the  abbot  and  the  affiliated  houses  was 
frequent  and  regular.  It  was  established  by  the  visita¬ 
tion  of  the  supreme  chief,  a  guarantee  of  unity  and  order 
— but  a  most  absorbing  and  burdensome  duty.  When 
the  order  embraced  all  France,  and  the  bulk  of  Western 
Europe,  the  abbot  had  to  spend  his  life  upon  the  high- 

143 


Medieval  Civilization 


wavs.  He  held  in  his  hands  the  strings  which  moved 
men  and  affairs,  and  at  first  he  felt  obliged  to  see  every¬ 
thing  and  do  everything  himself.  The  earlier  abbots 
seem  to  have  possessed  the  gift  of  ubiquity. 

The  organization  of  the  visitation  was  completed  by 
that  of  the  “  chapter-general,”  which  was  an  assembly 
of  priors,  or  dependent  abbots,  held  periodically  at  Cluny 
under  the  presidency  of  the  archabbot.  The  documents 
of  the  eleventh  century  establish  the  existence  of  these 
imposing  synods,  and  the  attendance  of  bishops  and  high 
church  dignitaries,  in  addition  to  the  Cluniacs  proper. 
The  chapter-general  did  not  become  a  regular  institution 
until  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century,  when  its 
form  became  definitive — a  complex  organism  of  political, 
administrative,  and  judicial  bodies,  with  its  personnel  of 
“  visitors  ”  and  of  definitors,  and  its  ceaselessly  increas¬ 
ing  powers.  In  the  fourteenth  century  the  chapter- 
general  even  tended  to  become  a  sort  of  representative 
assembly,  exercising  its  control  over  the  abbot-general  and 
transforming  his  absolute  authority  into  a  limited  mon¬ 
archy.  But  in  the  eleventh  century,  the  golden  age  of 
the  congregation,  the  synod  was  still  only  a  consultative 
body,— resembling  the  formal  curia  with  which  the  king 
of  France  surrounded  himself,— and  the  autocracy  of  the 
abbot  was  complete  and  uncontested. 

The  observance  of  a  common  rule  was  the  moral  bond 
which  united  the  members  of  the  order.  The  rule  of 
Cluny  was  a  revision  of  the  general  rule  of  St.  Benedict, 
accommodating  it  to  the  transformations  which  had 
taken  place  in  monastic  life. 

This  law  of  a  great  monastic  people  had  not  the  in- 

144 


Cluny 

flexible  character  which  some  have  been  tempted  to  at¬ 
tribute  to  it.  It  had  a  certain  suppleness  of  application ; 
the  first  abbots  were  intelligent  men,  whose  love  of  duty 
did  not  blind  them  to  the  necessity  of  making  provision 
for  the  differences  between  different  parts  of  Europe. 
They  could  not  be  satisfied  simply  to  impose  the  rule ; 
they  saw  that  it  was  needful  to  make  it  endurable  if  not 
attractive,  if  the  mother  house  was  to  have  a  lasting 
dominion.  When  the  abbot  Hugh  I  (elected  1049) 
transmitted  the  text  of  the  rule  to  the  monastery  of 
Spires,  he  authorized,  and  even  pledged,  the  German 
abbot  to  modify  or  extend  it  in  points  required  by  the 
peculiar  usages  of  the  country. 

The  first  general  modification  consisted  in  the  great 
emphasis  which  was  laid  upon  labors  of  the  mind.  Man¬ 
ual  labor  was  retained  by  Cluny,  but  only  sufficiently  to 
recall  to  the  monk  the  precept  of  humility— one  of  the 
foundation  principles  of  monachism.  The  rule  obliged 
the  Cluniacs  to  shell  beans,  pull  up  weeds,  make  bread — 
but  only  for  a  short  time.  The  hours  which  were  not 
consecrated  to  prayer  and  the  offices  they  employed, 
above  all,  in  learning  singing,  copying  manuscripts,  and 
reading  works  of  sacred  and  even  profane  literature. 
The  Cluniac  reform  has  been  falsely  charged  with  lay¬ 
ing  it  down  as  a  principle  that  the  literature  of  the 
ancients  should  be  ignored  and  despised.  The  abbot 
Odo  (926-948)  dreaming  that  his  Vergil  was  trans¬ 
formed  into  a  magnificent  vase,  out  of  which  swarmed 
serpents  which  encircled  him  in  their  folds ;  the  abbot 
Majolus  (948—994)  prohibiting  the  reading  of  the  HLneid, 
and  erasing  from  the  manuscripts  all  passages  which 

145 


Medieval  Civilization 


spoke  of  love— these  pious  legends  did  not  prevent  the 
Cluniac  writers  from  becoming  impregnated  with  classi¬ 
cal  literature,  from  mixing  sacred  and  profane,  and  from 
defending  the  opinions  of  the  Fathers  with  citations  from 
the  Latin  authors.  The  exclusion  of  classical  antiquity 
was  so  little  a  custom  and  a  law  for  the  monks  of  Cluny 
that,  in  the  twelfth  century,  the  disciples  of  St.  Bernard 
bitterly  reproached  them  with  having  an  excessive  love 
for  pagan  letters  and  poetry.  The  labor  of  the  hands, 
especially  in  clearing  the  soil,  was  indispensable  under  a 
system  of  isolated  monasteries,  at  a  time  when  the  bulk 
of  the  land  was  wild ;  but  the  necessity  had  ceased  to  be 
imperative  in  the  eleventh  century.  A  congregation  like 
Cluny,  proprietor  of  vast  domains  with  a  population  of 
colons  and  serfs,  no  longer  required  the  manual  labor  of 
the  monks  for  the  exploitation  of  the  soil.  Besides,  it 
was  the  design  of  Cluny  to  save  the  Church  from  absorp¬ 
tion  in  the  pursuit  of  material  interests,  and  to  react 
against  the  feudal  society  in  which  abasement  of  the 
mind  went  hand  in  hand  with  brutality  and  coarseness 
of  manners. 

The  struggle  against  ignorance  was  one  of  the  first 
articles  in  the  reform  program.  Cluny  must  dominate 
by  the  mind,  and  shed  abroad  intellectual  light  as  well 
as  morality.  As  a  result  of  this  desire  to  act  upon  the 
understanding,  the  great  abbey  was  a  center  of  teaching 
— a  school  where  masters  of  reputation  instructed  and 
educated  the  novices.  In  these  boys’  schools,  the  disci¬ 
pline  was  harsh.  The  Cluniac  masters,  like  all  those  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  administered  corporal  punishment  for 
the  slightest  infraction  of  the  rules.  But  the  monastic 

146 


idea  supported  this  discipline,  and  caused  it  to  be  ac¬ 
cepted  by  all.  The  minute  educational  details  into  which 
the  legislator  of  the  order  enters  prove  clearly  that  Cluny 
was  solicitous  for  the  physical  health  of  children,  as  well 
as  for  their  moral  development. 

On  the  other  side,  Cluny  offered  a  salutary  example 
to  the  monastic  world :  the  rule  exalted  the  duties  of 
hospitality  and  charity.  Cluny  did  not  create,  of  course, 
but  she  developed,  under  the  form  of  regular  and  per¬ 
manent  obligations,  the  institutions  of  public  assistance 
and  almsgiving.  Two  important  functionaries  were 
entrusted  with  the  entertainment  of  guests  and  the  care 
of  the  poor— the  “guardian  of  the  guest-rooms,”  who 
received  horsemen,  and  the  “  almoner,”  charged  with 
welcoming  pedestrians  and  mendicants.  Every  day 
abundant  alms  were  distributed  to  the  poor  of  the  local¬ 
ity,  and  to  outsiders  as  well.  Udalric  (1018— 1093),  one 
of  the  writers  of  the  Cluniac  rule,  estimates  that  in  the 
year  in  which  he  wrote  his  Customs  17,000  indigents 
received  aid.  The  affiliated  houses  followed  the  example 
of  the  metropolis.  At  Hirschau,  one  of  the  German  pri¬ 
ories,  the  monks  found  means  in  one  of  the  worst  years 
to  succor  thirty  poor  each  day.  The  abbot  Odilo 
(990— io49)  sold  the  sacred  vases  of  his  treasure,  in 
order  to  feed  the  starving  in  a  time  of  famine.  The 
abbots  of  Cluny  never  ceased  to  repeat  and,  better  still, 
to  practise  the  maxim  of  St.  Ambrose :  “  The  money  of 
the  Church  is  not  made  to  be  heaped  up,  but  to  be  dis¬ 
tributed  to  those  in  need.”  Everywhere  that  St.  Hugh 
went,  throngs  of  the  wretched  rushed  to  meet  him  and 
receive  money  and  food  at  his  hands. 

147 


Medieval  Civilization 


Thus  spoke  and  acted  the  Cluniacs  of  at  least  the  first 
centuries.  The  immense  popularity  which  Cluny  enjoyed 
among  the  inferior  classes  contributed  still  more  to  the 
prosperity  of  an  order  which  enjoyed  the  protection  of 
the  popes  and  the  rich  gifts  of  all  Europe. 

Cluny  had  also  the  special  good  fortune  to  be  organ¬ 
ized  and  directed,  in  the  eleventh  century,  by  superior 
men,  true  monks,  apostles  devoted  to  their  work,  and 
men  of  remarkable  vigor  and  longevity.  Majolus  ad¬ 
ministered  Cluny  for  forty-six  years,  Odilo  for  fifty-nine, 
and  Hugh  for  sixty.  These  men  rendered  their  abbey 
the  great  service  of  living  long,  and  were  able  to  give 
it  stability,  unity  of  direction,  and  permanent  traditions. 
The  first  four  abbots  have  been  placed  by  the  Church 
in  the  calendar  of  saints ;  but  the  Middle  Ages  had 
deified  them,  almost,  in  their  lifetime,  making  of  them 
wonder-workers  freed  from  the  limitations  of  human 
existence.  The  divine  protection  never  left  them.  Odo, 
praying  at  the  tomb  of  St.  Martin  of  Tours,  was  as¬ 
sailed  and  bitten  by  foxes ;  an  enormous  wolf  promptly 
appeared  upon  the  scene,  put  them  to  flight,  and  re¬ 
mained  thereafter  the  faithful  companion  of  the  saint. 
One  night  a  thief  sought  to  steal  Odilo’s  horse,  but  just 
outside  the  abbey  portals  man  and  horse  were  fixed, 
unable  to  move  a  muscle.  At  daybreak  Odilo  went  out 
and  discovered  the  rigid  culprit.  “  My  friend,”  said  the 
abbot,  gently,  “  it  is  not  fair  that  you  have  lost  a  whole 
night  guarding  my  horse,”— and  he  threw  him  some 
pieces  of  money.  When  the  streams,  swollen  by  a  flood, 
barred  the  road  of  the  man  of  God,  he  crossed  them 
dry-shod.  Odilo  repeated  the  miracles  of  the  fishes  at 

148 


St.  Martin  of  Tours,  and  that  of  the  marriage  of  Cana 
at  an  Italian  monastery.  One  day  when  Hugh  I  was 
crossing  the  Alps  on  the  way  to  Rome,  an  old  woman, 
hidden  in  a  tree,  frightened  the  mule  upon  which  he 
rode.  Hugh  and  his  mount  fell  over  a  frightful  preci¬ 
pice.  In  the  midst  of  the  general  terror,  the  abbot  was 
discovered  caught  in  the  branches  of  a  small  tree ;  he 
was  rescued,  and  the  tree  miraculously  disappeared.  The 
life  of  the  first  abbots  was  veritable  enchantment! 

Underneath  this  cloud  of  edifying  legend,  the  physical 
and  moral  personality  of  the  leaders  does  not  always 
stand  out  sharply.  And  yet  certain  figures  of  the  elev¬ 
enth  century  can  be  adequately  drawn.  Odilo,  a  thin, 
lithe,  pale-hued,  nervous  man,  devoured  by  an  inner 
flame  which  shone  through  his  mobile  face  and  quick 
eyes,  was  a  mediocre  orator,  but  a  clever  and  prolific 
writer.  In  him  are  to  be  found  the  qualities  common  to 
all  the  creators  of  Cluny :  charity,  sweetness,  robust 
faith  in  monastic  work,  love  both  for  teaching  and  for 
the  active  life,  endurance,  and  marvelous  activity.  We  see 
him  on  all  the  highways  of  Europe,  descending  unexpect¬ 
edly  upon  the  most  distant  monasteries,  correcting  their 
abuses  and  scandals,  aiding  kings  and  popes  to  reform 
degenerated  cloisters,  or  to  solve  the  highest  questions  of 
religion  and  of  politics,  and,  notwithstanding  his  ex¬ 
hausting  physical  and  mental  labors,  attaining,  in  full 
possession  of  his  faculties,  an  advanced  age. 

His  successor,  Hugh  I,  was  a  man  of  good  height,  an 
eloquent  speaker,  a  supple  and  persuasive  diplomat,  born 
for  politics  and  affairs,  the  friend  and  collaborator  of 
Gregory  VII.  None  contributed  more  to  the  greatness 

149 


Medieval  Civilization 


of  Cluny,  none  labored  more  zealously  at  the  founda¬ 
tion  of  the  Roman  theocracy,  than  he.  He  was  an  advo¬ 
cate  of  the  papacy,  spoke  for  it  in  all  the  councils,  and 
never  ceased  to  give  it  comfort  by  his  presence  and  ad¬ 
vice.  His  saintly  reputation  made  him  the  necessary  man, 
the  arbitrator  always  chosen  to  settle  the  most  delicate 
and  most  serious  quarrels.  High  barons,  bishops,  kings, 
and  popes  had  recourse  to  his  intelligence  and  his 
justice.  Through  the  ascendancy  of  his  personal  au¬ 
thority,  quite  as  much  as  by  virtue  of  the  power  of 
his  order,  this  monk  treated  as  an  equal  with  the  chiefs 
of  the  lay  world,  as  well  as  of  the  Church.  His  inde¬ 
pendence  was  absolute.  He  refused  the  pontifical  dig¬ 
nity,  which  could  not  have  increased  his  power  over  the 
Christian  world. 

Although  it  was  against  the  express  wish  of  Gregory 
VII,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  make  Duke  Hugh  I  of  Bur¬ 
gundy  a  monk  of  Cluny.  He  desired  to  attract  King 
Philip  I  of  France  into  his  cloister.  The  abbot  rightly 
held  that  the  kingdom  of  France  would  lose  nothing  if 
Philip  buried  himself  in  the  monastery ;  for  he  was  an 
old  king,  already  practically  replaced  by  his  son,  and  his 
continuing  reign  was  only  a  scandal.  But  Philip  did 
not  fall  in  with  the  abbot’s  plan.  On  the  other  hand, 
when  Alphonso  VI,  king  of  Castile,  thought  seriously 
of  abdicating  and  devoting  his  remaining  years  to  the 
monastic  life,  the  abbot  reminded  him  that  he  had  a  task 
to  perform, — that  it  was  his  duty  to  war  against  the 
Mussulmans  and  bring  religious  and  political  deliverance 
to  Spain, — and  he  kept  him  upon  the  throne.  Hugh  repri¬ 
manded  kings,  as  did  Gregory  VII,  but  he  did  it  tact- 

150 


fully.  He  told  them  the  truth  with  gentleness  and  re¬ 
spect.  “  O  King,  worthy  to  be  loved,”  he  wrote  to 
Philip  I,  “  open  fully  your  soul  to  the  fear  of  the  Lord. 
Alas !  the  perils  which  environ  your  life  are  numberless ! 
Death  presents  itself  under  all  its  forms,  and  it  is  a 
terrible  thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God ! 
Change,  therefore,  your  life;  correct  your  habits;  draw 
near  to  God,  through  true  penitence  and  a  perfect  con¬ 
version.”  William  the  Conqueror  wished  to  have  Cluniac 
monks  in  England,  and  offered  Hugh,  if  necessary,  “  to 
pay  for  them  with  their  weight  in  gold.”  The  words 
were  imprudent  at  this  time,  when  the  Church  was  wag¬ 
ing  ardent  war  against  simoniacs.  The  abbot  of  Cluny 
answered  without  acerbity,  but  with  firmness :  “  Before 
God,  gold  is  valueless,  and  silver  profiteth  not.  What 
doth  it  profit  a  man,  if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose 
his  own  soul?  At  no  price,  most  dear  lord,  would  I 
wish  to  sell  my  own  soul ;  and  I  should  assuredly  be  sell¬ 
ing  it  if  I  sent  a  single  one  of  my  brothers  where  I  am 
convinced  that  he  would  be  lost.  Moreover,  I  have  a 
great  need  of  monks  for  the  divers  localities  which  we 
must  provide  for.  Far  from  selling  them,  I  should  give 
money  to  get  them.”  William  recognized  that  the  last 
word  had  been  said.  The  congregation  entered  England 
by  another  route. 

The  eleventh  century  was  the  apogee  of  the  order  of 
Cluny.  Later,  the  prestige  of  its  monks  declined,  and 
the  twelfth  century  saw  the  first  signs  of  its  decadence. 
The  abbey  fell  a  prey  to  civil  war,  through  competition 
with  the  new  orders.  Superabundance  of  worldly  goods 
cooled  the  fervor  and  slackened  the  discipline  of  the 

I5i 


Medieval  Civilization 


brethren.  The  powers  of  the  abbot,  who  was  the  key¬ 
stone  of  the  edifice,  were  shaken  by  the  increasing  author¬ 
ity  of  the  chapters-general.  In  the  thirteenth  and  four¬ 
teenth  centuries  still  further  departures  were  made  from 
the  primitive  organization.  The  pope  and  the  king  of 
France  finally  secured  the  right  to  nominate  alternately 
the  abbot.  Cluny  then  lost  its  independence,  and  with 
it  the  whole  institution  fell  with  an  irremediable  fall, 
for  it  lived  only  by  liberty. 


152 


Monks  of  the  Twelfth  Century 

Adapted  from  L.  Garreau:  L' Et at  social  de  la  France  au  temps 
des  croisades,  1899,  PP-  437-445- 

IN  the  second  half  of  the  eleventh  century,  several 
congregations  were  formed  in  France,  and  in  the 
twelfth  century  these  spread  over  all  Catholic  Europe, 
eclipsing  to  some  extent  the  renown  of  the  Cluniacs.  The 
most  important  was  the  congregation  of  Citeaux. 

The  Cistercians  were  mystics  and  anchorites.  They 
did  not  attempt  to  influence  the  world  as  the  Cluniacs 
did.  They  wanted  to  flee  from  the  perverse  age,  to  go 
away  where  there  were  no  murders,  where  they  would 
not  see  the  weak  oppressed,  where  life  was  not  passed  in 
managing  falcons  and  weapons,  where  there  were  no 
beautiful  temptresses  who,  on  your  return  to  the  castle, 
in  taking  off  your  helmet  and  hauberk  with  their  caress¬ 
ing  hands  also  disarmed  your  virtue.  But  they  could 
not  escape  from  this  earth.  .  .  .  They  would  at  least 
depart  from  human  society.  They  would  find  a  deserted 
spot,  and  make  it  their  own  by  cultivation ;  there  would 
be  no  feudal  obligations,  and  no  serfs.  They  would  free 
themselves  from  all  the  customary  conditions  of  life. 

The  year  in  which  the  first  crusaders  captured  Jerusa¬ 
lem,  twenty-one  young  men,  animated  by  these  desires, 
settled  in  a  wild  part  of  the  country  of  Beaune  in  Bur- 

153 


Medieval  Civilization 

gundy,  and  built  a  wooden  retreat  in  the  valley  which 
bore  what  was  then  the  obscure  name  of  Citeaux 
( Cistercium  in  the  Latin  charters). 

The  kind  of  life  which  they  desired  was  to  be  found 
in  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict,  of  which  Cluny  practised  the 
spirit,  but  not  the  letter.  Seven  hours  of  manual  labor, 
seven  hours  of  sleep,  seven  hours  of  prayer;  two  for 
study;  a  single  meal,  consisting  of  two  vegetables  and 
some  fruit — this  was,  according  to  the  rule,  the  daily 
program.  For  clothing  they  wore  that  which  St.  Benedict 
had  seen  poor  men  wearing  in  the  sixth  century :  a  tunic 
or  shirt  of  undyed  wool,  covered  during  work  with  a  long 
scapulary,  and  at  church  with  a  cowl. 

These  prescriptions,  followed  to  the  letter,  made  up  for 
the  monks  of  Citeaux  a  more  severe  regimen  than  St. 
Benedict  had  wished.  The  Benedictines,  who  followed 
the  ancient  observance,  did  not  fail  to  note  it.  Their 
holy  founder,  they  said,  had  written  his  laws  for  Ital¬ 
ians  ;  the  garments  which  were  sufficient  in  the  climate 
of  Campania  were  not  enough  for  the  winters  of  Gaul ; 
and  Gaul  did  not  produce  those  olives  which  nourished 
the  monks  of  Italy  during  their  perpetual  fast :  a  little 
meat  was  necessary  in  Gaul.  As  for  manual  labor,  Char¬ 
lemagne  and  the  other  benefactors  of  the  monasteries 
had  intended  by  their  gifts  to  free  the  monks  from  the 
necessity  of  labor,  so  that  they  might  be  employed  more 
usefully  in  prayer  and  study;  it  was  not  fitting  that 
knights,  “  philosophers,”  and  fluent  professors  could  not 
leave  the  world  without  being  compelled  to  work  like 
slaves.  Those  who  spoke  thus  invoked,  in  addition,  the 
precept  which  runs  through  the  whole  rule  of  St.  Bene- 

154 


Monks  of  the  Twelfth  Century 

diet :  “  Be  moderate  in  everything,  and  consider  human 
weakness.” 

But  the  men  that  Citeaux  attracted  were  not  moderate. 
They  were  fanatical.  They  felt  unable  to  govern  their 
fury,  and  to  observe  moderation  in  the  use  of  that  bound¬ 
less  liberty  which  the  world  then  allowed  nobles ;  and 
for  this  reason  they  resigned  nobility  and  liberty.  Their 
fiery  imagination,  reinforced  by  pitiless  logic,  conceived 
of  a  very  lofty  type  of  the  Christian  knight,  of  the  bishop 
of  Jesus  Christ;  they  were  indignant  at  seeing  so  few 
of  their  contemporaries  attain  this  ideal,  and,  realizing 
that  they  were  too  often  the  plaything  of  momentary 
instinct  and  feeling,  they  despaired  of  realizing  it  them¬ 
selves.  Then  they  thought  only  of  finding,  under  a  ter¬ 
rible  rule,  a  yoke  that  was  heavy  enough  to  overcome 
their  too  passionate  natures.  Fasting  and  work  were 
needed  to  master  the  exuberance  of  their  physical  force ; 
complete  silence  was  necessary  to  give  peace  to  such  souls. 

Moreover,  such  rigor  alone  could  satisfy  fully  one  of 
the  aspirations  which  drove  into  the  cloisters  so  many 
members  of  the  ruling  class :  the  desire  of  joining,  by 
sharing  their  sufferings,  the  ranks  of  those  who  ate  black 
bread  in  the  sweat  of  their  brow.  This  was,  indeed,  the 
impelling  force  in  very  many  conversions ;  and,  even 
before  the  foundation  of  Citeaux,  knights  had  been  seen 
disguising  themselves  in  the  garb  of  poor  wretches,  and 
living  among  the  peasants  by  some  hard  manual  occu¬ 
pation.  This  need  of  real  poverty  had  not  been  satisfied 
in  a  rich  Cluniac  monastery ;  it  was  satisfied  under  the 
rule  of  Citeaux  and  other  Benedictine  congregations 
founded  at  the  same  time  and  with  the  same  spirit. 

155 


Medieval  Civilization 


In  1047  a  member  of  the  family  of  the  counts  of 
Auvergne,  named  Robert,  retired  with  two  knights 
to  the  heart  of  a  forest  in  Velay,  so  vast,  says  a  con¬ 
temporary,  that  a  swift  horse  would  have  taken  four  days 
to  cross  it.  They  had  scarcely  discovered  a  retreat  when 
other  knights  wanted  to  share  their  hard  life ;  the  ora¬ 
tory  which  they  built  became  the  celebrated  monastery 
of  Chaise-Dieu,  and  from  it  went  forth  the  founders  of 
two  hundred  and  ninety-three  priories,  in  France,  Spain, 
and  Italy. 

In  1079  the  Grande-Sauve,  or  great  forest  between  the 
Dordogne  and  the  Garonne,  sheltered  a  few  knights  who 
had  come  from  Picardy  in  search  of  an  unknown  spot 
where,  fasting  and  praying,  they  might  live  by  the  work 
of  their  hands.  Their  director  was  a  monk  who  has 
since  been  known  by  the  name  of  St.  Gerard.  Like 
Chaise-Dieu,  the  Grande-Sauve  became  the  chief  center 
of  a  congregation  which  spread  over  both  slopes  of  the 
Pyrenees.  The  order  of  Grammont  had  a  similar  origin 
in  the  same  epoch. 

In  1070  Bruno,  a  young  clerk  at  Rheims,  who  had  for¬ 
merly  been  enamored  of  learning  and  eloquence,  left 
his  professorial  chair  in  order  to  flee  from  the  sight  of 
a  simoniacal  archbishop,  “  whose  pride,”  says  the  chron¬ 
icler,  “  recalled  the  pride  of  kings.”  Drawn  to  Grenoble 
by  the  holy  man  who  was  then  bishop,  he  had  gone  one 
day  to  meditate  and  pray  on  the  mountains,  which  rose 
abrupt  and  wild  to  the  north  of  this  city,  and  whose  low¬ 
est  summits  are  surrounded  by  the  Isere.  Several  dis¬ 
ciples  had  followed  him.  They  discovered  a  magnificent 
place,  surrounded  by  a  circle  of  almost  impassable  moun- 

156 


Monks  of  the  Twelfth  Century 

tains— gigantic  ramparts,  in  which  the  torrents  had 
hollowed  out  two  narrow  gates.  They  felt  themselves 
in  a  land  apart,  more  beautiful  than  the  habitable  earth, 
and  wholly  imprinted  with  the  greatness  of  God.  How 
could  they  leave  it  and  return  to  the  petty  cares  of  men? 
They  remained  in  their  mountains,  and  from  the  local 
name,  Mons  Cartusianus,— Chartreuse,  in  the  vulgar 
tongue, — they  were  called  Carthusians. 

About  the  year  noo,  Robert  d’Arbrissel,  “the  great 
converter,”  led  into  the  forest  of  Fontevrault  a  band  of 
men  of  all  ranks  and  women  of  every  sort, — a  hetero¬ 
geneous  troop,— which  was  the  object  of  great  suspicion 
to  the  prudent  people  who  followed  the  steps  of  the  mis¬ 
sionary  in  order  to  lead  under  his  guidance  a  holy  life. 
A  shelter  and  a  cloister  for  the  women  were  built  out 
of  the  first  trees  that  were  felled ;  then  the  men  sowed 
wheat  in  place  of  the  bushes  which  they  had  torn  up, 
and  when  winter  came  they  built  a  home  for  themselves. 
These  two  wooded  shelters  became  twin  monasteries, 
which  had  this  touching  peculiarity  that  both  were  under 
the  rule  of  the  abbess  of  the  women’s  convent.  The 
monks,  accepting  from  their  devotion  to  the  Virgin 
Mary  the  rule  of  their  sisters,  supported  them  by  the 
fruits  of  their  toil. 

The  congregations  of  Vallombrosa  and  Camaldoli 
sprang  up  in  Italy  at  the  same  time,  in  the  same  spon¬ 
taneous  fashion,  and  without  preconceived  plan.  Like 
those  which  were  formed  in  France,  they  were  founded 
under  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict. 

The  congregation  of  Citeaux  was,  therefore,  not  an 
isolated  phenomenon :  it  was  the  most  important  mani- 

157 


Medieval  Civilization 


festation  of  a  current  directed  both  by  the  extreme  ardor 
of  the  individual  characters,  and  by  the  sight  of  irreme¬ 
diable  social  vices.  In  the  course  of  the  twelfth  century, 
if  we  may  believe  the  calculations  of  ancient  authors, 
22,000  men  became  Cistercians.  From  Spain  to  Poland, 
and  from  Scotland  to  Sicily,  wherever  there  was  an 
abandoned  piece  of  land  or  a  valley  that  seemed  too 
swampy  to  be  inhabited,  a  monastery  of  this  order  was 
built.  Thus  there  was  throughout  Christendom  a  second 
flowering  of  Benedictine  laborers,  like  the  first  one, 
which,  after  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  brought 
Europe  again  under  cultivation.  But  this  second 
monastic  colonization  was  very  much  more  active,  and 
in  a  few  years  occupied  all  the  sites  that  the  first  had 
not  reclaimed. 


The  Elements  of  Feudalism 


Adapted  from  A.  Esmein:  Cours  6l£mentaire  d’ histoire  du  droit 
frangais,  1901,  pp.  175-184. 

FEUDALISM  is  a  form  of  social  and  political  organ¬ 
ization  which  existed  in  the  Middle  Ages  throughout 
all  Western  Europe.  It  has  existed  in  other  parts  of  the 
world,  and  at  other  epochs — for  example,  Japan  began 
to  abolish  her  highly  developed  feudalism  as  late  as  1867; 
but  this  discussion  deals  only  with  the  feudalism  of  Wes¬ 
tern  Christendom. 

There  are  two  constituent  elements  in  feudalism : 
the  feudal  group  and  the  lordship  (seigncurie) . 

The  basis  of  the  feudal  group  is  the  fief.  The  fief  was 
a  piece  of  land,  or  a  vested  right,  granted  by  a  man  who 
was  called  lord  of  the  fief  to  another  man  who  was  called 
vassal,  on  condition  that  he  render  certain  services.  The 
vassal  did  not  promise  the  lord,  in  the  formal  act  of  hom¬ 
age,  that  he  would  pay  a  sum  of  money,  or  a  rent  equiva¬ 
lent  to  money ;  he  promised,  rather,  that  he  would  be 
absolutely  faithful  to  him,  and  also  that  he  would  per¬ 
form  certain  services  which  resembled  the  ordinary  obli¬ 
gations  of  a  citizen  to  the  State.  These  can  be  brought 
under  three  heads :  the  vassal  had  to  fight  for  his  lord 
when  required  to  do  so;  he  had  to  submit  himself  to  the 
justice  of  his  lord,  or  aid  him  in  his  court ;  he  had,  on 

159 


Medieval  Civilization 


demand,  to  give  him  counsel  and  advice.  Finally,  if  the 
terms  upon  which  he  held  his  fief  did  not  require  a  peri¬ 
odical  money  payment,  he  was  obliged,  in  a  few  cases 
which  were  fixed  by  custom,  when  the  lord  had  pressing 
need  of  money,  to  give  him  financial  assistance  by  paying 
a  feudal  aid.  The  lord,  on  his  side,  owed  his  vassal 
fidelity,  justice,  and  protection. 

This  peculiar  contract  of  mutual  assistance  shows 
clearly  that  in  feudal  times  the  old  notion  of  the  State 
had  undergone  profound  modifications.  These  two  men, 
who  pledged  each  other  mutual  support,  supplemented, 
or  took  the  place  of,  the  weak  or  absent  authority  of  the 
State.  In  the  nature  of  things,  the  association  was  not 
restricted  to  these  two  men. 

Ordinarily,  the  lord  of  the  fief  granted  fiefs  to  several 
persons,  and  thus  secured  a  number  of  vassals.  This  was 
inevitable  in  an  age  of  force  and  violence,  for  a  man 
had  to  be  rich  and  powerful  before  he  could  become  a 
leader  and  protector.  The  different  vassals  of  the  same 
lord,  who  were  united  to  him  by  the  same  bonds  of  duty, 
constituted  the  feudal  group,  and  this  was  the  very  soul 
of  feudal  society.  It  really  formed  a  species  of  little 
State,  provided  with  its  own  government,  and  capable  of 
performing  all  the  essential  functions  of  the  State.  By 
virtue  of  the  vassals’  service  in  war,  the  feudal  group 
was  an  army;  through  their  judicial  service,  it  was  a 
court  of  justice;  through  their  advisory  service,  it  was 
a  council  of  government.  This,  of  course,  presupposes 
that  the  large  State,  within  which  these  little  States  de¬ 
veloped,  could  no  longer  guarantee  justice,  security,  and 
internal  peace. 

But  the  feudal  group,  thus  constituted,  was  not  yet  com- 

160 


The  Elements  of  Feudalism 


plete.  Still  others  connected  themselves  with  it,  although 
their  role  was  a  secondary  and  subordinate  one.  These 
were  the  cultivators — the  villeins  and  the  serfs.  They 
were  often  villeins  of  free  condition,  who  received  conces¬ 
sions  of  land  from  the  lord  or  from  his  vassals ;  but  these 
concessions  were,  in  their  nature,  quite  unlike  the  fief — 
they  were  made  in  consideration  of  payments  in  money, 
or  in  kind.  There  were,  also,  the  serfs,  who  were  bound 
to  the  soil  of  the  lord  or  his  vassals.  But  the  free  villein 
and  the  serf  were  not  active  members  of  the  feudal 
group  described  above.  They  had  direct  relations  only 
with  the  persons  whose  tenants  they  were,  or  with  the 
land  to  which  they  were  bound,  and  their  condition  was 
one  of  duties  rather  than  of  rights.  But  they  gravitated 
in  the  orbit  of  the  feudal  group,  since  they  were  con¬ 
nected  either  with  the  lord  or  with  the  vassals  who 
together  composed  it.  They  constituted  the  class  whose 
labors  and  payments  supplied  the  economic  needs  of  the 
entire  group.  They  were  not  strictly  members  of  it,  but 
they  found  their  protection  from  external  violence  in 
the  military  and  social  force  which  the  group  controlled, 
since  those  of  whom  they  held  had  the  right  to  invoke 
its  aid. 

The  bond  which  united  all  these  men  into  an  organic 
whole — lords,  vassals,  tenants,  and  serfs — was  the  land. 
Some  of  them  granted  it ;  the  others  received  it  on  cer¬ 
tain  conditions.  But  this  of  itself  transformed  landed 
property.  Free  and  absolute  ownership  passed  away, 
save  here  and  there ;  it  gave  place  almost  wholly  to 
tenure,  for  nearly  every  one  held  his  land  of  some  one 
else,  by  virtue  of  a  conditional  and  limited  grant. 

The  feudal  group  was,  as  has  been  shown,  organized 
161 


Medieval  Civilization 

to  be  self-sufficient ;  that  does  not  mean  that  it  was  ne¬ 
cessarily  isolated  in  the  feudal  society ;  as  a  rule,  it  could 
not  be.  For  the  lord,  the  head  of  the  group,  usually 
entered  as  a  vassal  into  another  group  of  the  same  sort, 
whose  lord  and  head  was  ordinarily  more  powerful  than 
he  was.  Consequently,  his  own  lands  were  held  directly 
of  this  lord  as  a  fief,  and  the  lands  of  his  vassals  were 
held  indirectly  of  this  lord,  as  fiefs  of  the  second  rank 
(arrier  e-fiefs) .  The  first  group  was  thus  linked  with  a 
second,  and  the  second  might  be  linked  with  a  third, 
and  so  on  until  a  lord  was  reached  who  recognized  no 
superior,  who  held  his  rights  of  no  one,  who  was,  in 
France,  the  king.  When  these  connections  were  com¬ 
pleted,  the  king  would  have  under  him,  in  radiating 
series,  all  the  fiefs  and  all  the  feudal  tenures  of  the  king¬ 
dom.  This  hierarchical  arrangement  made  possible  the 
preservation  of  national  unity,  at  least  in  theory ;  and,  in 
course  of  time,  the  monarchy  derived  great  advantages 
from  it.  But  it  is  to  be  remembered  that,  according  to 
feudal  principles,  each  vassal  had  duties  and  obligations 
only  to  his  own  lord.  He  was  not  the  man  of  the  supe¬ 
rior  suzerain — he  owed  him  nothing ;  only,  now  and  then, 
his  own  lord  might  require  him,  by  virtue  of  his  per¬ 
sonal  authority,  to  aid  the  superior  suzerain.  In  the 
course  of  time,  it  is  true,  this  principle  was  weakened, 
and  fixed  relations  were  established  between  the  superior 
suzerain  and  the  rear  vassals ;  but  even  in  these  cases 
their  own  lord  was  always  the  intermediary. 

In  France,  this  wise  arrangement  was  not  as  old  as 
feudalism ;  in  some  respects  it  was  very  slow  to  take  root. 
French  feudalism  grew  up  in  a  period  of  profound 

162 


The  Elements  of  Feudalism 


anarchy,  and,  as  a  natural  result,  there  were  many  lords 
in  the  beginning  who  were  absolutely  independent  and 
many  feudal  groups  which  were  absolutely  isolated.  The 
feudal  hierarchy  was  established  only  very  gradually. 
The  more  powerful  lords  secured  the  homage  of  the 
more  feeble,  and  the  king  secured  the  homage  of  the 
superior  lords.  But  the  Capetian  monarchy  had  at  first 
much  trouble  in  securing  the  homage  of  certain  lords, 
and  the  feudal  obligations  of  great  vassals,  who  were 
as  powerful  as  the  king  himself,  very  often  remained  a 
dead  letter. 

The  second  constituent  element  of  feudalism  is  the 
seigneurie,  or  lordship. 

The  right  to  rule,  in  feudal  times,  was  not  derived 
solely  from  the  contracts  and  grants  of  land,  which  gave 
birth  to  the  feudal  groups.  There  was  another  source 
for  it— the  authority  of  the  State  itself.  This  authority, 
formerly  incarnated  in  the  sovereign,  never  vanished  en¬ 
tirely,  although  the  rights  springing  from  the  feudal 
associations  seemed  to  threaten  its  extinction.  It  sur¬ 
vived,  in  a  distorted  and  dismembered  form,  as  the 
seigneurie.  This  was  merely  sovereignty,  or  a  fragment 
of  sovereignty,  which  had  become  private  property  by 
passing  into  the  possession  of  individuals.  This  acquisi¬ 
tion  of  sovereignty  was  the  result  of  concessions  from 
the  monarch  himself,  or  was  the  product  of  pure  usurpa¬ 
tion  consolidated  by  length  of  possession  and  confirmed 
by  custom.  Sometimes  this  fragment  of  sovereignty, 
exercised  over  a  definite  extent  of  territory,  was  attached 
as  an  appendix  to  the  lands  or  vested  rights  with  which 
it  was  owned  and  transmitted ;  at  other  times  it  consti- 


Medieval  Civilization 

tuted  a  distinct  piece  of  property,  which  had  an  existence 
of  its  own.  But  whenever  the  feudal  hierarchy  was  fully 
developed,  this  fragment  of  sovereignty  was  clothed  in 
feudal  forms,  and  was  always  held  as  a  fief,  either  of  a 
lord  or  of  the  king.  Thus  the  authority  of  the  State 
adapted  itself  to  the  genius  of  hierarchical  feudalism.  All 
the  seigneuries  were  similar  in  kind,  but  they  differed 
enormously  in  the  territory  they  embraced  and  the  at¬ 
tributes  which  they  conferred.  There  was  at  first  a 
superior  class  which  represented  complete  sovereignty 
over  a  territory,  so  far  as  one  may  speak  of  sovereignty 
in  a  feudal  society.  The  lord  of  such  a  fief  had  the  right 
to  exercise  within  his  territory,  however  large,  all  the 
royal  rights  which  had  not  been  absorbed  by  the  inferior 
lords.  Generally,  such  fiefs  were  held  directly  of  the 
crown,  and  they  gave  to  feudal  France  the  appearance 
of  a  federation  of  private  individuals  under  the  presi¬ 
dency  of  the  king.  These  seigneuries  were  ordinarily 
called  the  great  fiefs ;  their  holders  are  often  spoken  of 
by  the  older  writers  as  the  barons  of  the  kingdom  of 
France.  All  these  superior  seigneuries  carried  with  them 
special  titles  of  dignity.  First  of  all  came  the  duchies 
and  the  counties,  and  here  the  origin  of  the  seigneurie 
and  of  the  title  is  easily  seen.  The  feudal  duchies  and 
counties  were  the  large  administrative  divisions  of 
the  Carolingian  monarchy,  from  which  they  sprang; 
their  birth  was  due  to  the  appropriation  of  state  func¬ 
tions  by  the  dukes  and  counts.  Next  in  order  of  dignity 
were  the  baronies — a  new  creation,  a  product  of  the  age 
when  feudalism  was  formed.  They  do  not  correspond 
to  any  function  of  the  Carolingian  monarchy.  At  first 

164 


The  Elements  of  Feudalism 


de  facto  powers,  they  later  became  the  typical  form  of  the 
fully  developed  feudal  seignenrie.  Below  them  were  the 
viscounties  and  the  castellanies.  The  viscount  was,  in 
the  Frankish  monarchy,  the  deputy  of  the  count.  The 
castellan,  was  originally  the  officer  of  a  baron,  and  it  was 
his  duty  to  administer  for  the  baron  one  or  more  castles 
with  their  lands.  There  were,  however,  some  viscounts 
who  obtained  their  independence,  or  became  direct  vas¬ 
sals  of  the  crown,  and  who  had  as  much  power  as  the 
counts  or  the  dukes.  Finally,  there  was  a  class  of  seign- 
euries  which  conferred  on  their  holders  no  title  other 
than  lord,  but  gave  them  the. exercise  of  the  functions  of 
high  or  low  justice,  as  the  case  might  be.  It  is  very  diffi¬ 
cult  to  state,  in  general  terms,  the  exact  extent*  of  the 
rights  of  these  lords,  and  the  particular  sovereign  attri¬ 
butes  which  each  of  them  exercised  within  his  territory ; 
for  it  was  custom  which  above  all  determined  these  in 
feudal  times,  and  custom  varied  from  place  to  place. 
Two  general  conclusions,  however,  can  be  presented. 
First,  the  seignenrie  which  ordinarily  represented  the 
plenitude  of  sovereignty  was  the  barony ;  secondly,  the 
lord  who  exercised  the  most  precious  attributes  of  sov¬ 
ereign  power  was  the  lord  high  justiciar  (the  lord 
who  possessed  the  right  of  life  and  death).  Throughout 
his  territory  he  dispensed  civil  and  criminal  justice  with 
an  unlimited  jurisdiction,  and,  for  a  long  time,  his  decrees 
continued  to  have  sovereign  authority.  He  alone  had  the 
right  to  levy  imposts  upon  his  subjects.  In  his  exclusive 
possession,  therefore,  were  the  two  essential  rights  of 
justice  and  taxation.  It  was  manifestly  high  justice 
which  most  nearly  represented  the  authority  of  the  State 


Medieval  Civilization 


in  feudal  society.  The  rights  which  the  superior  lords 
exercised  were  very  slight  unless  they  kept  high  justice 
in  their  own  hands ;  and  their  power  rested,  above  all, 
upon  their  own  domains  and  the  number  of  their  vassals. 
However,  the  powers  of  the  high  justiciar  himself  must 
not  be  exaggerated ;  they  were  limited,  both  as  to  taxa¬ 
tion  and  justice,  by  other  feudal  principles. 

Feudal  society  was  divided  into  three  clases— nobles, 
villeins,  and  serfs.  The  full  power  of  the  high  justiciar 
was  exercised  over  villeins  and  serfs  alone ;  nobles 
escaped  it  almost  completely.  In  fact,  the  latter  were 
exempt  in  principle  from  the  tax,  whether  direct  or 
indirect,  levied  by  the  high  justiciar  upon  his  subjects. 
Moreover,  the  noble  was  always  a  vassal,  and  as  such 
recognized  as  his  judge  the  lord  to  whom  he  did  hom¬ 
age,  and  before  whom  he  could  find  a  tribunal  of  his 
peers.  Thus,  in  principle,  he  was  not  subjected  to  jus¬ 
tice  founded  upon  the  public  authority.  Consequently, 
he  was  not  amenable  to  the  jurisdiction  of  the  lord  high 
justiciar,  unless  the  latter  happened  to  be  at  the  same 
time  the  lord  of  his  fief,  and  had  not  yet  received  his 
homage;  and  then  it  was  the  latter  circumstance,  and 
not  the  former,  which  established  the  jurisdiction.  Even 
in  matters  touching  the  villein,  the  lord  justiciar  might 
see  certain  cases  escaping  his  justice. 

These  are  the  essential  elements  of  fully  developed 
feudalism. 

The  feudal  regime  had  a  very  long  life.  It  was  grad¬ 
ually  established  in  the  ninth  and  tenth  centuries, 
reached  completion  in  the  eleventh,  and  certain  aspects 
of  it  endured  in  France  until  the  French  Revolution.  The 

1 66 


The  Elements  of  Feudalism 

period  when  the  feudal  institutions  really  represented 
the  political  organization  of  French  society,  when  they 
were  its  mainspring,  extends  from  the  commencement  of 
the  eleventh  century  to  the  end  of  the  fourteenth.  To 
be  sure,  the  royal  power  never  disappeared  from  feudal 
France;  from  the  twelfth  century  on,  it  had  a  great 
political  role,  and  in  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  cen¬ 
turies  it  made  great  progress  in  spite  of  the  feudal 
powers. 


167 


Mutual  Obligations  of  Lords 
and  Vassals 


Adapted  from  A.  Luchaire,  in  Lavisse:  Histoire  de  France, 
Vol.  II,  Part  ii,  1901,  pp.  9-1 1, 

HE  feudal  obligations  were  naturally  heavier  for  the 


A  vassal  than  for  the  lord.  The  oath  of  fidelity  re¬ 
quired  not  only  that  the  vassal  should  not  say  or  do  any¬ 
thing  which  might  hurt  his  lord  in  his  person  or  in  the 
person  of  his  near  relatives,  in  his  honor  or  in  his  goods ; 
it  bound  him  to  devote  himself  to  his  lord,  and  even  to 
sacrifice  his  liberty  for  him.  By  virtue  of  the  obligations 
of  guarantee  and  of  hostage,  he  was  responsible  in  person 
and  property  for  the  engagements  contracted  by  his  su¬ 
zerain.  He  really  only  half  belonged  to  himself,  and  even 
less  than  that  if  the  lord  rigorously  exercised  the  powers 
which  his  rights  conferred  upon  him. 

In  time  of  war,  military  service  kept  him  for  a  fixed 
number  of  days  under  the  banner  of  his  lord.  Even  his 
castle  was  not  fully  his  own :  his  suzerain  might  demand 
the  keys  and  put  a  garrison  in  it.  Furthermore,  he  must 
guard  the  castle  of  his  lord,  and,  in  any  case,  do  garrison 
duty  there  once  a  year.  In  times  of  peace  he  was  bound 
to  come,  at  his  lord’s  requisition,  to  judge  or  give  counsel 
in  his  court,  or  even  simply  to  increase  his  suite  at  all  the 


168 


Lords  and  Vassals 


great  church  festivals  and  in  all  the  important  events  of 
his  life  and  of  the  life  of  his  family. 

To  the  military  assistance  we  must  add  the  financial  aid 
which  might  legally  be  demanded  of  him  in  certain  cases 
fixed  by  custom.  It  is  an  error  to  imagine  that  financial 
service  was  peculiar  to  the  tenure  of  a  villein,  and  that  it 
did  not  weigh  upon  the  tenure  of  the  noble.  The  noble 
paid  his  suzerain  for  the  right  of  inheriting  the  fief,  es¬ 
pecially  if  he  were  a  collateral  heir ;  he  paid  for  the  right 
of  transferring  the  fief,  for  freeing  his  serfs,  or  for  giv¬ 
ing  lands  to  the  Church.  Furthermore,  he  was  liable  for 
a  contribution,  the  feudal  aid ,  every  time  his  lord  made  an 
extraordinary  expenditure.  Finally,  he  bore  the  heavy 
burden  of  lodging  and  purveyance :  he  must  welcome  and 
defray  the  expenses  of  the  lord  and  his  suite,  just  as 
monks  and  peasants  who  were  subjects  of  the  lord  had 
to  do. 

When  the  vassal  had  performed  his  duty  and  had  ful¬ 
filled  the  services  he  was  bound  to  perform,  he  was  not 
then  at  liberty  to  dispose,  in  full  independence,  of  his  per¬ 
son  and  of  his  fief.  The  ever-present  authority  of  his 
suzerain  made  itself  felt  even  in  the  domain  of  private  life. 
According  to  the  letter  of  the  law,  the  vassal  could  not  ab¬ 
sent  himself  from  his  fief,  travel,  undertake  a  distant  pil¬ 
grimage,  get  married,  or  give  in  marriage  his  son,  and 
especially  his  daughter,  without  the  permission  of  his 
lord.  If,  at  his  death,  his  heir  was  under  age,  the  suzerain 
legally  assumed  the  guardianship,  that  is  to  say,  he  became 
for  the  time  being  the  absolute  master  of  the  fief,  until 
the  heir  reached  his  majority  or  the  heiress  was  married. 
There  were  still  other  circumstances,  such  as  those  of 

169 


Medieval  Civilization 


disinheritance  and  confiscation,  which  allowed  the  lord 
to  enter  into  definitive  possession  of  the  fief.  Vassalage, 
then,  was  not  merely  the  limited  exploitation  of  the  feu¬ 
datory  by  the  suzerain ;  in  fact,  it  looks  as  if  the  vassal 
was  only  the  holder  of  the  fief,  while  the  lord  was,  in 
truth,  the  real  owner. 

In  his  turn,  the  suzerain  had  duties  to  perform  toward 
his  vassal.  He  was  forbidden  to  injure  him,  to  take  the 
homage  of  his  men  away  from  him,  to  construct  for¬ 
tresses  upon  his  fiefs,  or  to  increase,  without  consultation 
with  him,  the  dues  fixed  by  custom  or  contract.  He  must 
render  exact  justice  to  the  vassal,  and  protect  him  against 
his  enemies.  If  the  faithlessness  of  the  vassal  involved, 
in  law,  the  confiscation  of  his  fief,  the  disloyalty  of  the 
suzerain  was  punished  with  the  refusal  of  homage  and 
the  breaking  of  the  feudal  bond.  But  how  unequal  the 
situations  of  the  two  were,  and  how  superior  the  advan¬ 
tages  enjoyed  by  the  dominant  lord  under  the  law  of  fiefs  ! 
The  duties  of  the  suzerain  were  principally  negative,  and 
undoubtedly  the  less  onerous  of  the  two.  The  fact  that 
the  suzerain  was  himself  the  vassal  of  another  did  some¬ 
thing  to  reestablish  the  equilibrium,  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  feudal  obligations  became  less  heavy  and  less 
complex  in  proportion  as  the  feudatory  occupied  a  more 
exalted  place  in  the  feudal  hierarchy. 


170 


The  Realities  of  Feudalism 

Adapted  from  A.  Luchaire,  in  Lavisse:  Histoire  de  France , 
Vol.  II,  Part  ii,  1901,  pp.  11-14. 

IF  we  look  only  at  the  externals  of  feudalism,  where 
everything  seems  so  rigorously  thought  out  and  regu¬ 
lated  by  law,  we  are  tempted  to  see  in  it  a  group  of  insti¬ 
tutions  capable  of  taking  the  place  of  the  State  which  had 
been  destroyed.  The  feudal  regime,  which  was  founded 
upon  the  sanctity  of  an  oath  and  respect  for  good  faith, 
possessed  a  moral  basis ;  on  the  other  hand,  it  manifestly 
favored,  more  than  any  other  regime,  the  play  of  indi¬ 
vidual  forces  and  individual  liberty. 

It  is  a  great  error  to  suppose  that  the  feudal  relations 
rested  solely  upon  the  contract.  Such  a  view  leaves  out 
of  account  the  frequency  with  which  they  had  their  origin 
in  the  continued  exercise  of  de  facto  power,  in  violent 
usurpation  and  brutal  conquest.  Still,  it  is  not  to  be  de¬ 
nied  that  in  certain  cases  they  originated  in  an  agreement 
freely  entered  into  between  the  protector  and  the  pro¬ 
tected.  Moreover,  homage  might  be  demanded  at  each 
change  of  suzerain  or  vassal,  and  that  involves  in  prin¬ 
ciple  the  consent  of  the  parties.  The  fixity  of  the  feudal 
obligations,  the  necessity  the  suzerain  was  under  to  obtain 
the  assent  of  the  vassal,  even  to  the  slightest  modification 
of  them,  and  finally,  and  above  all,  the  principle  that  the 

171 


Medieval  Civilization 


vassal  was  tried  by  his  peers,  i.  e.,  by  his  equals,  were  all 
precious  guarantees  of  the  independence  and  security  of 
the  individual.  But  any  one  who  wishes  to  form  a  just 
estimate  of  feudalism  must  get  at  the  fundamental  facts 
and  contrast  the  reality  with  the  theory  and  the  law. 

Closely  viewed,  the  edifice  raised  by  feudalism  is  seen 
to  have  been  poorly  joined  together,  and  to  have  been  in 
a  condition  of  imperfect  equilibrium.  Relations  were 
established  by  law  between  suzerains  and  vassals,  from 
the  top  to  the  bottom  of  the  hierarchy.  But  lateral  rela¬ 
tions,  between  the  peers,  were  non-existent.  The  nobles 
upon  the  same  stage  of  the  feudal  hierarchy  lived  as 
strangers  to  one  another;  there  was  no  bond  between 
them  except  the  accidental  association  which  sprang  from 
the  necessity  of  performing  common  duties  toward  a  com¬ 
mon  suzerain.  Among  them  isolation  was  so  habitual 
as  to  be  almost  the  rule.  But  was  the  bond  connecting 
vassal  and  lord  itself  strong?  Not  only  was  the  vassal 
able  to  weaken  it  to  the  very  point  of  extinction  by  the 
mere  force  of  inertia,  by  staying  at  home,  or  by  omitting 
to  appear  at  the  court  of  his  lord,  but  even  the  law  itself 
gave  him  a  thousand  opportunities  or  a  thousand  pretexts 
for  breaking  it.  The  feudal  bond  was  originally  estab¬ 
lished  only  by  his  consenting  to  perform  the  act  of  hom¬ 
age.  When  it  weighed  upon  him,  he  could  withdraw 
from  under  it  by  alleging  the  disloyalty  of  his  suzerain, 
or  he  could,  even  without  giving  any  reason,  by  a  simple 
declaration  renounce  his  fief.  In  certain  cases,  of  course, 
the  suzerain  had  the  right  to  denounce  the  feudal  contract 
and  dissolve  the  association. 

However  suitable  the  judicial  organization  of  feudal- 

172 


The  Realities  of  Feudalism 


ism  may  have  been  for  safeguarding  the  rights  of  the  in¬ 
dividual,  it  produced,  in  practice,  the  most  unhappy  re¬ 
sults.  The  much-vaunted  justice  rendered  by  one’s  peers 
had  no  sanction;  it  settled  the  difficulties  most  usually  by 
the  judicial  combat  or,  what  was  much  worse,  by  private 
war.  So  that  one  may  say,  without  transgressing  the 
truth,  that  the  feudal  regime  isolated  the  individual  more 
than  it  liberated  him. 

The  law  of  the  feudal  hierarchy  was  no  more  real  a 
guarantee  of  peace  and  union  than  the  law  of  vassalage. 
The  uncertainty  as  to  who  was  really  lord  of  the  fief,  the 
custom  of  doing  homage  to  several  suzerains,  the  intro¬ 
duction  of  new  seigneuries,  and  the  multiform  attempts 
of  the  suzerains  to  secure  the  homage  of  the  vassals  al¬ 
tered,  from  the  eleventh  century  on,  the  existing  condi¬ 
tions,  and  tended  to  throw  the  whole  system  out  of  joint. 
The  establishment  of  the  feudal  hierarchy,  which  was  to 
introduce  harmony  and  order  into  the  chaos  of  seigneu¬ 
ries,  on  the  contrary  produced,  all  too  frequently,  an  en¬ 
tanglement  of  dominations  and  a  confusion  of  powers. 
War  sprang  from  the  hierarchical  principle,  as  it  did  from 
vassalage. 

The  living  reality  as  it  stands  forth  from  the  chronicles 
and  documents  of  the  time  shows  that  brute  force  domi¬ 
nated  everything.  The  feudal  obligations  were  per¬ 
formed,  the  feudal  contracts  were  respected,  the  feudal 
customs  were  observed,  only  when  the  suzerain  was  pow¬ 
erful  enough  to  compel  obedience.  The  bond  of  vassalage 
became  weaker  and  weaker  as  the  noble  rose  in  the  hier¬ 
archy.  But  at  the  bottom,  as  at  the  top,  it  was  ceaselessly 
broken,  and  good  faith  was  constantly  violated  by  vassal 

173 


Medieval  Civilization 

and  lord  alike.  The  ineradicable  habits  of  a  military 
people,  the  instinctive  hatred  of  the  neighbor,  the  conflict 
of  rights  which  were  ill-defined  and  of  interests  which 
were  poorly  adjusted,  caused  perpetual  struggles.  There 
was  no  feudatory  who  was  not  at  loggerheads  with  his 
different  suzerains,  with  the  bishops  and  abbots  of  the 
country  round,  with  his  peers,  and  with  his  vassals.  War 
raged  not  only  between  the  possessors  of  the  fiefs,  but  in 
the  bosom  of  every  family.  Quarrels  between  relatives 
over  inheritance  heaped  up  the  measure  of  strife. 

It  is,  then,  no  slander  upon  feudalism  to  point  out  the 
permanent  anarchy,  the  profound  disagreement  between 
law  and  fact,  which  characterized  it.  Feudalism  had  its 
raison  d’etre  and  its  period  of  usefulness  in  the  tenth 
century,  when  the  collapse  of  governmental  power  and 
the  Norman  invasions  constrained  the  people  to  accept,  as 
a  benefit,  the  patronage  of  local  magnates.  But  never  did 
a  regime  pass  more  quickly  from  legitimacy  to  excess.  If 
it  was  beneficent  at  a  given  moment  in  the  beginning,  that 
moment  must  have  been  a  very  fugitive  one,  and  the  his¬ 
torical  documents  at  least  bring  down  to  us  but  slight  evi¬ 
dences  of  its  beneficence.  Some  admirers  of  the  Middle 
Ages  have  pretended  that  France  really  knew  an  epoch 
when  the  castle  of  the  lord  served  principally  as  a  refuge 
for  the  burgesses  and  the  peasants  menaced  by  a  foreign 
foe ;  when  the  lord,  in  the  shadow  of  his  fortress,  thought 
only  of  obtaining  for  those  under  his  protection  security 
for  their  material  life  and  the  means  of  trading  and  labor¬ 
ing.  They  depict  the  lord  opening  markets  for  them,  pro¬ 
viding  them  with  a  wine-press,  a  bakery,  and  a  mill,  and 

174 


The  Realities  of  Feudalism 


fixing  the  time  for  the  crops  and  the  conditions  of  the  sale 
of  goods  in  the  exclusive  interest  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  seigneurie,  in  order  to  save  them  from  famine.  They 
exhibit  the  lord  levying  taxes  only  to  assure  public  de¬ 
fense  and  the  maintenance  of  bridges  and  roads ;  and 
even  erecting  churches  and  abbeys  to  give  to  the  group 
of  men  placed  under  his  guardianship  the  means  of  satis¬ 
fying  their  moral  and  religious  needs.  This  golden  age 
of  feudalism,  if  it  ever  existed  anywhere  in  its  entirety, 
was  already  no  more  than  an  ideal  when  feudalism  ap¬ 
peared,  fully  armed,  at  the  fall  of  the  last  Carolingian 
monarch. 

The  castellans,  the  viscounts,  and  the  lesser  nobles 
(who  were  the  most  numerous  and  who  were  in  direct 
contact  with  the  people)  were  less  occupied  with  organiz¬ 
ing  than  with  destroying,  less  anxious  to  govern  than  to 
fleece,  exploit,  and  pillage.  Instead  of  protecting,  they 
oppressed.  Seignorial  patronage  seems  to  have  had  as 
its  immediate  consequences  the  enslavement  of  the  pro¬ 
tected  and  the  habitual  exaction  of  intolerable  payments. 
All  the  services  of  common  interest,  even  justice  itself, 
became  the  private  patrimony  of  a  noble  family,  and  were 
henceforth  mere  instruments  of  extortion.  Those  feudal 
nobles  who  are  held  up  to  us  as  creators  of  all  the  eco¬ 
nomic  institutions  of  the  Middle  Ages  really  found  them 
established  and,  perhaps,  even  in  operation  from  time  im¬ 
memorial.  They  simply  confiscated  them  and  monopo¬ 
lized  them  to  their  own  profit.  Not  only  were  order  and 
justice  lacking  under  the  feudal  regime,  but  liberty  itself ; 
for  liberty  did  not  exist  for  the  great  majority;  it  was  the 

175 


Medieval  Civilization 


privilege  of  nobles,  who  used  it,  above  all,  to  fight  among 
themselves.  We  know  only  too  well  how  much  the  men 
of  the  Middle  Ages  sufifered  from  feudalism  to  believe 
that  everything  which  has  occurred  in  the  course  of  his¬ 
tory  has  been  advantageous  to  the  nations  merely  because 
it  happened  and  they  survived. 


176 


Feudal  Wars 


Adapted  from  A.  Luchaire:  Manuel  des  institutions  franqaises, 
1892,  pp.  228  234. 


AR,  in  all  its  forms,  may  be  said  to  have  been  the 


V  V  law  of  the  feudal  world.  It  was  the  principal 
occupation  of  that  stirring  aristocracy  which  kept  land 
and  sovereignty  in  its  grasp.  The  deep-rooted  habits  of 
a  military  race,  the  hatred  of  strangers  and  neighbors, 
the  clash  of  ill-defined  rights,  selfishness  and  covetous¬ 
ness,  perpetually  gave  rise  to  bloody  struggles,  and  made 
each  lord  the  enemy  of  all  around  him.  Every  feudatory 
made  war  at  least  once  upon  his  different  suzerains, 
upon  the  bishops  and  abbots  with  whom  he  was  in  con¬ 
tact,  upon  his  fellow-vassals  and  peers,  and  upon  his 
own  vassals.  The  feudal  ties  seem  rather  to  have  b£en 
a  permanent  cause  o f ~yIoIefif  Tonfficts  than  a  guarantee 
13 f  peace  and  concord.  The  sole  ambition  of  the  baron 
"was  to  round  out  his  domain  at  the  expense  of  vassals 
who  were  too  weak  to  resist  him ;  the  vassal  took  advan¬ 
tage  of  the  youth  or  absence  of  his  suzerain,  or  of  the 
regency  of  a  woman,  to  throw  himself  upon  his  lord’s 
territory  and  injure  it  as  much  as  possible.  Battles  were 
fought  over  the  succession  to  a  bit  of  land,  over  a  fron¬ 
tier  lawsuit,  and  over  the  exact  nature  of  a  feudal  tenure. 
In  law  and  in  theory,  the  suzerain  could  compel  his  vas- 


1 77 


Medieval  Civilization 


sals  of  the  same  grade  to  settle  their  quarrels  in  his 
court  of  justice ;  but  he  was  rarely  able  to  intervene  and 
cause  his  intervention  to  prevail.  Usually,  he  was  com¬ 
pelled  to  let  the  belligerents  fight,  and  interfered  only 
to  get  the  parties  to  make  a  truce  when  hostilities  threat¬ 
ened  to  continue  indefinitely.  In  law,  he  was  the  guar¬ 
dian  of  the  peace  in  his  fief,  and  was  in  duty  bound  to 
see  that  it  was  preserved ;  in  fact,  his  right  was  gen¬ 
erally  purely  nominal,  since  he  lacked  the  strength  to 
enforce  it. 

War  raged  not  only  between  suzerains  and  vassals  and 
between  the  vassals  of  the  same  fief,  but  also  in  the 
bosom  of  all  the  feudal  families.  The  son  fought  against 
his  father,  because  he  could  not  wait  until  his  father’s 
death  to  enjoy  the  lands  and  the  rights  which  would, 
in  due  course,  descend  to  him ;  the  younger  brothers 
attacked  the  elder,  for  the  reason  that  he  received  a  dis¬ 
proportionate  share  of  the  inheritance ;  nephews  waged 
war  on  uncles,  because  these  wished  to  prolong  their 
guardianship  unduly,  or  refused  to  recognize  the  custom 
which  excluded  collateral  heirs  from  the  inheritance ; 
and  the  son  took  arms  against  his  widowed  mother,  to 
force  her  to  relinquish  the  absolute  possession  of  her 
dower  lands.  Explosions  of  covetousness,  and  odious 
and  inveterate  struggles  over  inheritance,  tore  family  ties 
to  pieces. 

In  the  rare  intervals  of  calm,  when  serious  wars  were 
accidentally  non-existent,  the  nobles  sought  consolation  in 
the  artificial  quarrels  of  the  tournament.  The  tourna-  ; 
ments  of  the  eleventh  century  were  very  different  from 
the  well-known  affairs  described  by  the  chivalric  chron- 

178 


Feudal  Wars 


iclers  of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries.  The  lat¬ 
ter  were  mere  military  fetes  and  tilts,  in  which  the 
knights  competed  with  one  another  in  luxury  and  ele¬ 
gance,  and  in  strength  and  the  skilful  wielding  of  their 
arms.  The  tournaments  of  the  early  Capetian  period 
were  genuine  war  on  a  small  scale ;  all  the  nobility  of 
two  hostile  neighboring  territories  were  in  attendance ; 
and  they  were  occasionally  the  scenes  of  regular  battles 
between  marshaled  hosts,  with  bloody  and  murderous 
consequences  for  the  men,  and  especially  for  the  horses. 
At  times  knights  struggled,  two  by  two,  with  blunted 
arms ;  at  other  times  whole  troops  crashed  together.  The 
sanguinary  character  of  these  earlier  tournaments  ex¬ 
plains  the  severe  and  constantly  repeated  prohibitions 
leveled  against  them  by  popes  and  church  councils,  and 
even  by  the  kings  of  France,  who  deplored  such  a  waste 
of  the  military  resources  of  the  kingdom.  But  the  habit¬ 
ual  violence  and  warlike  instincts  of  the  nobility  were 
stronger  than  all  the  inhibitions  of  the  ecclesiastical  and 
lay  authorities.  The  kings  themselves  shared  the  gen¬ 
eral  fondness  for  these  warlike  exercises,  and  made  haste 
to  forget  their  own  prohibitions  when  a  favorable  oppor¬ 
tunity  presented  itself.  The  attitude  of  the  bourgeois 
toward  the  tournaments  was  hardly  less  friendly  than 
was  that  of  the  nobility,  since  the  tournaments  stimulated 
trade.  St.  Louis  was  the  only  French  monarch  who  made 
a  serious  effort  to  put  down  the  tournament,  and  his  suc¬ 
cess  was  not  marked. 

The  regulations  with  regard  to  the  judicial  duel  had  a 
similar  history.  This  was  only  a  modified  species  of  pri¬ 
vate  war,  regulated  by  the  presence  of  judges,  and  limited 

179 


Medieval  Civilization 


by  customary  forms.  It  was  war  in  the  service  of  justice. 
The  bloody  spectacles  to  which  it  frequently  gave  rise 
were  not  calculated  to  calm,  in  the  men  of  medieval  times, 
the  warlike  passions  which  were  the  very  foundation  of 
their  character. 

Feudal  war  was  more  than  a  habit  and  a  fact.  Even  at 
the  close  of  the  thirteenth  century,  when  the  French  mon¬ 
archy  strove  in  every  way  to  prevent,  or  at  least  to  restrict, 
the  consequences  of  the  general  savagery  of  manners,  the 
men  who  drew  up  the  customs  of  feudal  jurisprudence, 
and  who  were  more  or  less  saturated  with  monarchical 
ideas,  were  obliged  to  recognize  that  the  nobles  still  had 
the  right  to  take  the  law  into  their  own  hands.  It  was 
admitted  that  they  had  the  right  of  private  war.  It  would 
seem,  however,  that  this  right  was  not  so  absolute  and  so 
complete  under  St.  Louis  as  it  had  been  in  the  eleventh 
century.  The  minute  care  with  which  the  scribes  of  local 
customs,  from  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century,  laid 
down  the  rules  governing  the  judicial  duel,  the  gages  of 
battle,  and  even  the  practice  of  private  war,  was  in  itself 
a  limitation  of  the  right  of  war.  The  very  regulation 
of  disorder  and  violence  was  a  step  in  advance.  To  state 
by  law  how  far  feudal  brutality  might  go  was  equiva¬ 
lent  to  restraining  it.  The  restriction,  however,  was 
slight. 

The  rules  of  the  customary  law  of  Anjou,  which  are 
embodied  in  the  Establishments  of  St.  Louis,  show  that 
if  certain  legal  formalities  were  observed  private  war  be¬ 
tween  vassals  of  the  same  rank  was  still  absolutely  free, 
and,  generally  speaking,  against  any  other  person  save 
the  suzerain.  Even  in  this  latter  case  it  was  tacitly  con- 

180 


Feudal  Wars 


ceded  that  the  vassal  might  wage  war  upon  his  suzerain, 
if  he  secured  the  assistance  of  none  but  members  of  his 
own  family.  The  vassal,  then,  was  not  absolutely  for¬ 
bidden  to  wage  war  on  his  suzerain.  That  tells  the  whole 
story.  There  were  other  customs  which  were  less  favor¬ 
able  to  private  war  than  those  of  Anjou — customs  which 
even  seem  to  condemn  it ;  but  it  is  perfectly  plain  that 
this  condemnation  was  Platonic,  and  that  it  corresponded 
neither  to  habits  nor  to  facts.  Public  opinion  undoubt¬ 
edly  considered  feudal  war  legitimate,  and  all  it  strove 
to  do  was  to  lay  down  certain  rules  for  its  exercise. 

The  right  to  wage  war  was  a  privilege  which  belonged 
to  nobles ;  commoners  settled  their  differences  before  the 
courts  of  justice.  If  a  war  was  to  be  waged  according 
to  legal  formalities,  hostilities  had  to  be  preceded  by  a 
challenge,  which  was  made  in  writing  or  through  the 
medium  of  a  herald.  In  a  war  between  suzerain  and  vas¬ 
sal,  a  challenge  was  permissible  only  after  the  suzerain 
had  summoned  the  vassal  to  appear  before  his  court,  and 
had  had  him  condemned  either  in  person  or  by  default. 
Custom  ordinarily  prescribed  that  an  interval  of  one  or 
two  weeks  should  elapse  between  the  issue  of  the  challenge 
and  the  opening  of  hostilities,  to  allow  for  preparations. 
The  relatives  of  the  belligerents,  to  at  least  the  fourth 
degree,  were  included  in  the  war,  but  they  could  not  law¬ 
fully  be  attacked  until  forty  days  after  the  opening  of 
hostilities.  Any  one  violating  this  forty  days’  exemption 
was  guilty  of  the  crime  of  treason.  The  relatives  of  a 
principal  could  secure  neutrality  for  themselves  by  dis¬ 
owning  him,  and  by  having  it  assured  by  his  adversary. 
Certain  classes  of  persons  had  a  right  to  protection,  and 

181 


Medieval  Civilization 


could  not  be  included  in  the  hostilities ;  these  were  eccle¬ 
siastics,  women,  minors,  and  pilgrims.  War  was  termi¬ 
nated  temporarily  by  a  truce,  which  was  a  suspension  of 
arms  for  a  period  determined  upon  by  the  two  parties. 
The  truce  was  concluded  either  by  a  simple  agreement 
before  common  friends,  by  a  court  decision,  or  by  the 
direction  of  the  suzerain.  Infraction  of  the  truce  was  a 
very  grave  crime,  cognizable  only  by  high  justiciars. 
War  was  definitively  terminated  by  the  peace.  All  the 
relatives  were  included,  ipso  facto,  in  the  treaty  of  peace ; 
but  they  had  the  right  to  reject  it,  so  far  as  they  them¬ 
selves  were  concerned,  by  a  suitable  notification  to  the 
principals.  Once  peace  was  concluded  and  accepted  by 
an  oath,  it  was  regarded  as  solemnly  binding,  and  any 
one  guilty  of  infractio  pads  was  liable  to  severe  punish¬ 
ment. 

The  history  of  feudal  society  is  largely  a  chronicle  of 
all  kinds  of  wars,  to  which  it  never  ceased  to  be  a  prey. 
At  the  same  time,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  serious 
efforts  were  made,  throughout  the  whole  period,  to  stamp 
out  the  scourge.  The  enlightened  opinion  of  Europe 
finally  recognized,  after  the  chaos  of  the  tenth  century, 
that  society  could  not  be  based  upon  war,  isolation,  and 
anarchy.  The  necessity  for  peace  appeared  the  more 
urgent  inasmuch  as  the  common  people  were  at  this  time 
beginning  to  secure  emancipation,  and  commerce  and  in¬ 
dustry  were  springing  up  in  the  large  towns.  In  the 
eleventh  century,  the  only  power  sufficiently  intelligent 
and  respected  to  conceive  the  necessity  for  peace,  and  to 
take  measures  to  secure  it,  was  the  Church,  represented 
by  its  supreme  head,  the  pope,  its  councils,  and  its  bishops. 

182 


Feudal  Wars 


The  Church  took  the  initiative  in  the  first  measures  to 
secure  peace— the  Truce  of  God  and  the  Peace  of  God. 
It  is  to  the  eternal  honor  of  the  ecclesiastical  society  of 
the  Middle  Ages  that  it  attempted  the  work  of  pacifica¬ 
tion,  and  strove  to  make  it  successful.  The  measures  first 
taken  were  local,  and  the  principle  was  not  definitively 
asserted  and  made  generally  applicable  until  the  Council 
of  Clermont  in  1095. 

The  Truce  of  God,  which  rescued  certain  days  of  the 
week  from  the  brutality  of  the  nobles,  originated  in 
southern  France  in  the  last  years  of  the  tenth  century, 
and  quickly  spread  into  the  neighboring  French  dioceses 
at  the  beginning  of  the  next  century.  Councils  and 
bishops  constrained  the  barons  to  swear  to  observe  the 
Truce;  but  they  never  succeeded  in  securing  the  adhesion 
of  all  the  barons,  and  those  who  did  take  the  oath  did 
not  fail  to  break  it.  The  Truce  of  God  did  not  bear  the 
fruits  which  the  Church  expected  of  it,  because  its  sanc¬ 
tion  depended  upon  excommunication ;  and  though  this 
arm  still  struck  terror  and  secured  respect,  its  moral 
strength  was  not  always  sufficient  to  stem  the  rush  of 
brute  force. 

The  Church  recognized  the  defects  of  this  its  first 
device,  and  resolved  to  give  it  the  permanence  and  regu¬ 
larity  which  it  lacked.  The  second  half  of  the  eleventh 
century,  therefore,  saw  a  new  phase  of  the  clerical  move¬ 
ment  to  secure  release  from  feudal  disorder,  in  the  Peace 
of  God.  Each  diocese  became  the  center  of  a  veritable 
peace  association  or  league.  It  was  directed  by  the 
bishop ;  it  had  its  regular  statutes,  its  treasury,  its  magis¬ 
trates  ;  and,  what  was  vitally  important,  it  had  its  armed 

183 


Medieval  Civilization 


'force,  capable  of  reestablishing  order  where  it  was  dis¬ 
turbed,  and  of  punishing,  by  weapons  more  swift  than 
spiritual  menaces,  the  nobles  who  had  violated  their  oaths 
to  keep  the  peace.  Violations  of  the  peace  were  brought 
before  the  so-called  judges  of  the  Peace,  a  tribunal  which 
depended  upon  and  was  presided  over  by  the  bishop  of 
the  diocese.  The  barons  who  did  not  submit  to  the  de¬ 
crees  of  this  court,  and  did  not  bow  to  excommunication, 
were  pursued  and  punished  by  the  army  of  the  Peace, 
which  was  largely  made  up  of  parish  militia  enrolled 
under  the  episcopal  banner.  Such  was,  in  brief,  the  Peace 
of  God — the  first  regular  and  consistently  followed  mani¬ 
festation  of  order  in  the  midst  of  an  incoherent  and 
disordered  society.  It  worked  fairly  well,  and  produced 
good  results  in  certain  provinces.  But  in  the  great 
majority  of  cases  it  was  no  more  successful  in  prevent¬ 
ing  private  wars  than  the  Truce  of  God  had  been.  The 
bishops  had  not  sufficient  authority  to  compel  the  noble 
members  of  the  peace  association  to  undertake  a  conflict 
with  their  peers,  in  order  to  punish  them  for  acts  which 
were  not  repugnant  to  feudal  ideas.  It  was  very  difficult 
to  get  the  army  of  the  association  under  way.  The 
abstention  of  the  nobility  often  reduced  it  to  the  men  of 
the  bishop  and  some  rural  militia,  led  by  their  parish 
priests. 

The  efforts  of  these  peace  associations  were  only  par¬ 
tially  successful.  Their  indirect  services,  however,  were 
very  considerable.  At  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  cen¬ 
tury,  they  were  utilized  by  the  French  monarchy  when, 
under  Louis  the  Fat,  it  began  its  serious  and  more  effec¬ 
tive  struggle  against  the  disturbers  of  the  public  peace. 

184 


Feudal  Wars 


The  Church  was  not  the  only  institution  that  in  the 
twelfth  century  strove  to  pacify  the  land.  Excommuni¬ 
cation  was  beginning  to  lose  its  power,  and  in  the  thir¬ 
teenth  century  it  became  a  very  rusty  weapon.  The 
bishops  ceased  to  possess  adequate  authority  to  maintain 
public  tranquillity.  To  be  sure,  the  papacy,  whose  power 
was  now  augmented  by  reason  of  the  ecclesiastical  re¬ 
forms,  had  undertaken  the  beneficent  role  of  universal 
peacemaker.  Papal  legates  began  to  interfere,  with  suc¬ 
cess,  in  the  wars  of  the  nobles,  and  began  to  impose 
armistices  and  truces.  But  the  real  source  of  the  order 
and  peace  which  appeared  during  and  after  the  reign 
of  Louis  the  Fat  was  not  the  papacy,  but  the  monarchy. 
The  monarchy  was  not  only  armed  with  real  military 
force,  but  it  possessed  a  moral  and  political  superiority 
over  the  mass  of  feudal  lords  which  did  much  to  fur¬ 
ther  its  program.  The  king  succeeded  the  Church  as 
public  pacificator.  His  policy  was  naturally  directed 
toward  replacing  private  war  with  judicial  trials,  con¬ 
ducted  before  his  tribunal,  the  parlement,  which  was  an 
emanation  from  his  royal  power.  He  aspired  to  the  posi¬ 
tion  of  universal  judge,  and  in  the  thirteenth  century  felt 
himself  strong  enough  to  issue  ordinances  of  a  general 
application  prohibiting  tournaments,  judicial  duels,  and 
private  wars.  St.  Louis  made  the  greatest  efforts  in 
this  direction,  although  he  was  only  partially  successful. 
Despite  the  efforts  of  Church  and  king,  feudalism  clung 
to  its  former  customs  and  passions,  especially  in  those 
portions  of  the  kingdom  which  were  not  directly  governed 
by  the  king,  and  sometimes  even  in  the  lie  dc  France 
itself.  The  diminution  of  private  wars,  and  the  lessen- 

185 


Medieval  Civilization 

ing  of  the  atrocity  which  marked  their  progress,  came 
not  so  much  from  royal  enactments  as  from  the  slow 
but  progressive  improvement  of  public  morals,  and  the 
imperious  need  of  security  and  well-being  which  all 
classes  of  society  began  to  feel. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  thirteenth  century 
exhibited  a  marked  advance  in  these  particulars  over  the 
twelfth.  The  documents  of  the  period  show  that  the 
practice  of  assecuratio  was  by  this  time  customary 
throughout  France.  If  one  of  the  belligerent  parties, 
either  before  or  after  the  opening  of  hostilities,  felt  that 
he  was  too  feeble  to  resist  the  attack  of  his  enemy  and 
desired  to  protect  himself  against  the  threatening  danger, 
or  to  secure  the  termination  of  the  conflict,  he  addressed 
himself  to  the  judge  who  personified  the  authority  of  the 
king,  the  suzerain,  or  the  commune,  and  prayed  for 
security.  Thereupon,  his  enemy  was  legally  bound  to 
come  before  the  judge  and  solemnly  promise,  on  oath, 
that  he  would  respect  the  person  and  property  of  the 
adverse  party,  that  he  would  give  peace  to  him  and  his. 
Whether  he  refused  or  consented  to  give  this  assecuratio, 
the  result  was  the  same.  From  the  time  that  the  judge 
extended  the  assecuratio,  the  guarantee  of  security,  to 
the  petitioner,  the  law  made  his  enemy  responsible  for 
all  loss  that  he  suffered,  and  declared  him,  if  faithless, 
guilty  of  the  crime  of  breach  of  security  ( assecurationis 
fr actio),  a  crime  severely  punished  in  feudal  law.  The 
assecuratio  pads  must  not  be  confounded  with  a  truce. 
A  truce  was  a  suspension  of  hostilities  agreed  upon  by 
the  two  belligerents,  while  the  assecuratio  was  a  forced 
peace,  which  was  extorted  judicially  from  one  party  by 

1 86 


Feudal  Wars 


the  judge  to  whom  the  other  party  appealed.  It  is 
hardly  necessary  to  remark  that  this  institution  became 
a  real  guarantee  of  peace  and  social  order  only  when  the 
feudal  nobles  had  acquired  the  habit  of  respecting  the 
judicial  authority  and  submitting  to  its  decisions.  The 
assccuratio  became  especially  difficult  to  refuse  or  to  vio¬ 
late  when  the  judge  who  imposed  it  was  a  royal  justice,  or 
the  parlement  itself,  for  the  Olim  show  a  number  of 
cases  in  which  the  assecuratio  was  pronounced  in  the  full 
court  of  the  king.  The  use  of  this  institution  presup¬ 
poses  a  marked  softening  of  manners,  and  a  considerable 
advance  in  the  principle  of  order.  In  any  case,  it  was  a 
genuine  limitation  upon  the  right  of  private  war,  since 
it  permitted  one  of  the  parties  to  stop  the  war.  But 
neither  this  institution  nor  any  of  the  other  peace  insti¬ 
tutions  which  we  have  discussed  completely  modified 
social  conditions,  or  rendered  private  war  impossible. 
The  evil  was  too  profound,  too  firmly  fixed  in  the  very 
constitution  of  society,  to  make  any  one  remedy  more 
than  a  palliative.  Private  war  ceased  when  feudalism 
ceased,  and  not  sooner. 


187 


The  Church  and  Feudalism 


Adapted  from  P.  Viollet:  Histoire  des  institutions  politiques  et 
administrates  de  la  France ,  1898,  Vol.  II,  pp.  398-414;  and  L. 
Garreau:  L' £tat  social  de  la  France  au  temps  des  croisades,  1899, 
PP-  374-377- 

THE  generosity  of  the  faithful  in  giving  their  prop¬ 
erty  to  the  Church,  and  thus  heaping  up  treasure  in 
heaven,  was  inexhaustible.  They  gave  throughout  their 
lifetime ;  they  gave  especially  when  death  drew  near. 
There  were  few  who  were  willing  to  die  unconfessed 
and  intestate.  The  Church,  which  ceaselessly  received, 
never  alienated ;  both  civil  and  ecclesiastical  laws  for¬ 
bade.  From  time  to  time  it  suffered  terrible  spoliations, 
but  it  was  the  beneficiary  of  such  great  repentances  that 
its  wealth  constantly  increased  from  age  to  age. 

The  strength  and  tenacity  of  the  Church  have  been  the 
marvel  of  the  ages.  The  invasions  poured  their  flood  of 
barbarism  over  Europe,  but  the  Church  stood,  unsub¬ 
merged,  above  the  waters ;  feudalism,  that  aftermath  of 
barbarism,  transformed  all  the  other  institutions  of  me¬ 
dieval  Europe,  but  was  powerless  to  alter  fundamentally 
the  constitution  of  the  Church.  And  yet,  because  of  its 
wealth,  it  seemed,  for  a  time,  as  if  the  Church  must  be 
feudalized. 

The  possessions  which  the  Church  had  obtained  in  the 

188 


The  Church  and  Feudalism 

age  preceding  feudalism,  the  episcopal  and  monastic  do¬ 
mains,  were  then  allodial:  they  were  its  property  in  full 
possession.  The  gifts  which  it  received  during  the 
feudal  era  quite  naturally  possessed  a  feudal  character. 
Not  only  so,  but  various  influences  were  at  work  tending 
to  feudalize  all  the  possessions  of  the  Church,  and  even  the 
Church  itself.  In  the  feudal  epoch  the  ecclesiastical  au¬ 
thorities  bestowed  church  lands  upon  others,  who  thereby 
became  the  vassals  of  the  abbey  or  bishopric  or  church, 
as  the  case  might  be,  and  with  respect  to  these  lands, 
whatever  their  origin,  the  church  authorities  were  feudal 
suzerains.  Furthermore,  the  bishops  and  abbots  who,  in 
this  country  and  that,  remained  subject  to  certain  obli¬ 
gations  to  the  civil  power,  were  frequently  regarded  ipso 
facto  as  feudally  obligated  to  the  civil  power,  and  the 
lands  they  administered  were  consequently  held  to  be 
fiefs. 

Thus,  while  the  clergy,  as  members  of  the  Church, 
formed  a  hierarchy  which  was  independent  of  the  civil 
society  of  the  time,  they  were,  by  virtue  of  their  landed 
possessions,  members,  in  a  sense,  of  the  feudal  hierarchy. 
Grave  inconveniences,  both  spiritual  and  temporal,  re¬ 
sulted  from  their  quasi-incorporation  into  the  feudal 
structure.  The  clergy  were  obliged  to  perform  many  feu¬ 
dal  functions  incompatible  with  their  ecclesiastical  char¬ 
acter.  The  freedom  of  church  elections  was  materially 
diminished.  It  was  practically  inevitable,  in  cases  where 
the  holder  of  the  church  office  would  have  to  administer 
lands  held  feudally  of  a  lay  lord,  that  the  latter  should 
interfere  in  the  election.  In  the  third  place,  the  financial 
situation  of  the  Church  was  modified  by  feudalism.  It 

189 


Medieval  Civilization 


is  this  particular  phase  of  the  relations  between  the  Church 
and  feudalism  that  will  now  be  surveyed. 

From  the  feudal  point  of  view,  the  Church  never  en¬ 
joyed  any  general  immunity  for  all  its  property.  The 
feudal  burdens  which  weighed  upon  the  property  of  lay¬ 
men  weighed  also  upon  the  property  of  the  Church,  with 
the  exception  of  what  had  been  entrusted  to  it  for  pur¬ 
poses  of  almsgiving ;  the  property  which  it  possessed  feu¬ 
dally  was  liable,  in  principle,  to  feudal  burdens.  But  in 
fact,  and  by  the  very  force  of  circumstances,  the  suzerain 
lost  a  considerable  part  of  his  income  when  the  holder 
was  a  church.  Reliefs,  escheats,  and  similar  sources  of 
feudal  wealth  were  cut  off,  since  the  Church  never  died ; 
payments  on  alienation  failed  him,  for  the  Church  never 
alienated ;  there  was  no  opportunity  for  forfeiture  or 
confiscation,  for  the  rule  held  that  the  Church  should  not 
suffer  loss  by  reason  of  the  wrong-doing  of  an  individual 
cleric  ( delictum  persona  in  damnum  Ecclesice  non  est  con- 
vertendum).  Moreover,  the  Church  was  rather  awk¬ 
wardly  situated  for  fulfilling  the  military  duties  attached 
to  a  noble  fief,  since  it  was  an  accepted  principle,  although 
the  practice  was  not  always  consistent,  that  he  who  be¬ 
came  a  soldier  of  Christ  ceased  to  be  a  secular  soldier. 
Manifestly,  the  suzerain  of  a  church  suffered  real  loss. 

The  advantages  which  the  Church  enjoyed,  from  the 
feudal  point  of  view,  were,  however,  counterbalanced  by 
special  burdens.  For  the  feudal  lords  soon  realized  that 
the  increase  of  the  possessions  of  the  Church  was  drying 
up  their  revenues,  and  they  cleverly  adjusted  the  feudal 
law  to  suit  the  needs  of  the  situation. 

The  first  royal  attacks  upon  the  immunity  of  the 

190 


The  Church  and  Feudalism 


clergy  in  France  date  back,  perhaps,  as  far  as  Louis  VII. 
This  king,  in  order  to  raise  funds  for  the  second  crusade, 
imposed  such  a  heavy  contribution  upon  the  entire  king¬ 
dom  in  1146  that  several  abbeys  had  to  sell  or  pledge 
their  most  precious  possessions.  Measures  of  this  sort 
were  repeated.  We  find  the  Council  of  Tours  protesting 
against  these  exactions  in  1163,  and  the  general  Lateran 
Council  of  1179  prohibited  the  taxation  of  the  churches 
without  the  previous  consent  of  the  bishops  and  the 
clergy. 

Philip  Augustus  not  only  continued,  but  increased  the 
taxation  of  the  clergy.  In  1 188  he  raised,  with  the  con¬ 
sent  of  clergy  and  people,  the  famous  Saladin  tithe,  which 
was  so  heavy  that  he  solemnly  promised  the  clergy  and 
the  barons,  in  1189,  never  to  renew  it.  Nevertheless,  he 
did  not  cease  to  extort  large  sums  of  money  from  the 
churches  and  monasteries  for  the  maintenance  of  his  sol¬ 
diers.  The  clergy,  the  whole  people,  in  fact,  complained 
of  the  exactions  of  Philip  Augustus.  His  contemporary, 
Richard  the  Lion-Hearted,  treated  Normandy  in  the  same 
way,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  principle  of  the 
exemption  of  the  Norman  clergy  from  taxation  was  ad¬ 
mitted. 

The  Lateran  Council  of  1215  renewed  and  strength¬ 
ened  the  declarations  of  the  Council  of  1179.  It  laid 
down  the  important  restriction  that  the  bishops  must 
henceforth  consult  the  sovereign  pontiff  before  consenting 
to  a  tax.  The  same  Council  exhibited  its  interest  in  the 
affairs  of  the  Holy  Land  by  decreeing  a  general  tax,  to 
last  for  three  years,  upon  all  ecclesiastical  revenues. 
These  two  decisions  opened  a  new  era. 

191 


Medieval  Civilization 


From  the  year  1215  the  place  of  the  pope,  in  ecclesias¬ 
tical  taxation,  became  more  anymore  important.  At  one 
time  he  defended  the  French  churches  against  the  de¬ 
mands  of  the  king ;  at  another,  he  granted  the  king  the 
right  to  levy  taxes  upon  them ;  and  again,  he  himself 
'taxed  them  for  the  purposes  of  a  crusade,  a  quasi-crusade, 
or  for  any  motive  he  chose  to  honor.  Boniface  VIII  for¬ 
mulated  in  absolute  terms  the  theory  of  the  right  of  the 
pope  to  control  absolutely  the  taxation  of  the  clergy 
everywhere;  and  the  French  churches,  from  the  thir¬ 
teenth  century  on,  made  bitter  lamentation  over  the  bur¬ 
dens  they  had  to  bear. 

Mention  has  just  been  made  of  the  vacillating  protec¬ 
tion  the  pope  gave  the  Church  in  France  against  royal 
taxation.  Every  one  knows  that  the  celebrated  bull,  Cleri- 
cis  laicos,  issued  by  Boniface  VIII  in  1296,  was  called 
forth  by  the  royal  levy  of  two  tenths  upon  the  ecclesiasti¬ 
cal  wealth  of  that  kingdom.  It  is  true  that  the  bishops, 
convoked  at  Paris,  had  consented  to  the  levy.  But  the 
powerful  Cistercian  monks  refused  to  submit.  They  ad¬ 
dressed  a  vehement  protest  to  the  pope :  “  These  docile 
bishops,”  they  said,  “  are  mute  dogs  who  cannot  bark,” 
and  they  added  that  Philip  was  a  new  Pharaoh.  Boniface 
VIII  entertained  the  appeal,  and  issued  his  bull,  Clericis 
laicos,  threatening  with  excommunication  and  anathema 
both  the  laymen  who  collected  and  the  clerics  who  paid 
taxes  on  church  property  without  papal  authorization. 
At  the  same  time,  Boniface  declared  that  if  ever  the  king¬ 
dom  of  France  was  in  danger,  he  would  hasten  to  com¬ 
mand  the  Church  to  strip  herself  of  her  property  for  the 
common  welfare. 


192 


The  Church  and  Feudalism 


In  1297  Philip  and  Boniface  were  reconciled  and  the 
pope  accorded  to  the  king  a  double  tenth,  and  also  recog¬ 
nized  his  and  his  successors’  right  to  ask  and  receive  con¬ 
tributions  from  the  clergy,  for  the  defense  of  the  kingdom, 
without  the  further  authorization  of  the  Holy  See. 

After  the  celebrated  incident  of  1296-7,  as  before,  the 
levy  of  ecclesiastical  tenths  by  the  king  of  France  was  in¬ 
cessant,  and  many  were  the  dolorous  lamentations  of  the 
clergy.  At  times  the  kings  availed  themselves  of  their 
right,  conceded  in  1297,  to  tax  the  clergy  for  the  defense 
of  the  kingdom,  and  again  they  sought,  and  obtained, 
special  authorizations  from  the  pope. 

Probably  the  property  of  the  Church,  whatever  its 
source  or  special  purpose,  was  usually  subject  to  these 
tenths ;  they  were  taxes  on  the  church  revenues,  whatever 
the  source  of  the  revenues. 

From  Carolingian  times  down  to  the  beginning  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  the  churches,  in  their  search  for  pro¬ 
tectors  and  guarantees,  frequently  had  their  territorial 
possessions  confirmed  by  the  king  or  the  sovereign  pon¬ 
tiff.  Such  confirmations  were  less  frequent  at  the  end  of 
the  thirteenth  century,  were  very  rare  at  the  beginning 
of  the  fourteenth,  and  thereafter  ceased  entirely.  The 
fact  is  that  the  two  great  protectors  of  the  churches,  the 
pope  and  the  king,  were  thenceforward  too  frequent  and 
insistent  in  their  demands  for  pecuniary  aid.  The 
churches  ceased  to  beg  them  to  defend  their  property ; 
they  strove  to  defend  it  against  them. 

It  was  a  feudal  principle,  firmly  established  from  the 
beginning,  that  a  fief  could  not  be  alienated  or  curtailed 
without  the  authorization  of  the  suzerain.  This  principle 

193 


Medieval  Civilization 


was  utilized  to  hedge  about  with  obstacles  the  acquisition 
of  property  by  the  Church,  or  at  least  to  secure  compen¬ 
sation.  In  a  considerable  number  of  countries  the  acqui¬ 
sition  of  landed  possessions  by  the  Church  was  absolutely 
forbidden.  Such  a  prohibition  was  merely  an  extension, 
a  working  out,  of  the  feudal  principle  which  required  that 
the  suzerain  must  authorize  every  curtailment  or  alienation 
of  the  fief.  When  the  king,  for  example,  forbade  the 
Church  to  acquire  fresh  lands,  we  have  merely  a  case  in 
which  the  supreme  suzerain  refused  this  authorization 
once  for  all.  The  methods  adopted  in  other  countries 
were  not  always  so  harsh.  In  some  cases  the  Church  was 
conceded  a  year  and  a  day  in  which  to  dispose  of  its  newly 
acquired  property.  The  Church,  in  other  words,  had  to 
alienate  its  new  immovable,  retaining  in  its  own  hands,  of 
course,  the  proceeds  of  the  sale,  or  else  it  had  to  devise 
some  combination  which  might  be  considered  equivalent 
to  alienation.  In  several  of  the  provinces  of  France,  the 
Church  was  permitted  to  furnish  the  suzerain  with  a 
living  and  dying  man,  a  sort  of  vicar  whose  death  should 
place  the  suzerain  in  the  same  position,  as  to  the  exercise 
of  feudal  rights,  as  if  the  vicar  were  the  vassal. 

The  churches  themselves  were  very  commonly  feudal 
suzerains.  In  such  cases  it  was  as  much  to  their  interest 
as  it  was  to  the  interest  of  any  lay  suzerain  that  their 
vassals  should  live  and  die,  especially  die.  And  as  a 
church  did  not  die,  it  was  as  unsatisfactory  a  vassal  for 
a  clerical  suzerain  as  for  a  lay  suzerain.  Accordingly,  we 
find  that  ecclesiastical  suzerains  took  the  same  precautions 
toward  ecclesiastical  vassals  as  lay  suzerains  did.  We 
have  repeated  proofs  of  this  from  the  charters. 

194 


The  Church  and  Feudalism 


Both  lay  and  ecclesiastical  suzerains,  however,  devised 
at  an  early  time  a  scheme  for  safeguarding  their  rights 
which  was  much  simpler  than  either  of  the  two  just  dis¬ 
cussed.  They  authorized  ecclesiastical  bodies,  in  return 
for  an  adequate  indemnity,  to  acquire  lands  in  vassalage. 
This  is  the  right  of  amortissement ,  which  appeared  in  the 
eleventh  century  and  was  commonly  employed  in  the 
twelfth  and  in  the  thirteenth.  A  fifteenth-century  author, 
in  a  little  book  on  feudalism,  explains  the  right  as  follows  : 

Question:  “What  is  amortissement  ?  ” 

Answer:  “Amortissement  is  a  grant  or  concession 
which  a  lord  of  high  justice  makes  to  persons  or  people 
of  the  Church,  communities,  or  other  artificial  persons,  to 
hold  a  certain  piece  of  property  in  their  hands  in  per¬ 
petuity,  and  by  it  the  suzerain  renounces,  for  himself  and 
his  heirs,  all  right  to  compel  them  to  put  the  said  property 
out  of  their  hands.” 

Question:  “Why  was  amortissement  devised?” 

Answer:  “Amortissement  was  devised  because  church¬ 
men  willingly  bought  property  but  never  sold  any.  If 
they  continued  at  liberty  to  buy  freely  and  without  the 
consent  of  the  aforesaid  lord  high  justiciar,  like  ordinary 
individuals,  nothing  would  escape  purchase  at  their 
hands.” 

This  citation  shows  that  the  system  of  amortissement, 
originally  devised  against  acquisitions  by  the  Church,  was 
extended  to  acquisitions  by  lay  communities  and  colleges, 
which,  like  the  churches,  never  died,  and  also,  like  them, 
never  sold. 

The  right  of  amortissement  was  seen  to  offer  a  con¬ 
venient  method  for  extracting  money  from  the  Church. 

195 


M< — svaI  Civilization 

Accordingly,  the  suzerain  (of  the  lord  who  had  granted 
the  concession)  took  the  ground  that  his  rights  could  not 
be  affected  by  such  a  grant ;  he  seized  the  property  which 
a  church,  for  example,  had  just  acquired  under  a  deed  of 
amortissement,  and  refusing  to  allow  this  church  to  hold 
it,  demanded  that  the  church  should  put  it  out  of  its  hands 
within  a  year  and  a  day  (the  old  limitation),  or  come  to 
terms  with  him.  In  this  way  the  church  had  to  buy  ex¬ 
emption  a  second  time.  Nor  did  its  troubles  end  here,  for 
the  suzerain  of  the  suzerain  of  the  lord  from  whom  the 
church  had  acquired  the  property  insisted  that  his  rights 
be  compounded  for,  and  so  on,  until  the  king,  the  supreme 
suzerain,  was  reached.  The  burden  became  so  crushing 
that  in  1275  King  Philip  the  Rash  decided  that  all  ecclesi¬ 
astics  who  could  produce  letters  of  amortissement  from 
three  suzerains,  in  addition  to  the  lord  from  whom  they 
had  first  acquired  the  land,  should  not  be  disturbed  in  their 
possession.  But  this  amelioration  of  the  lot  of  the 
churches  was  soon  counterbalanced  by  an  increase  in  the 
cost  of  the  right,  and  by  its  extension  from  feudal  to 
allodial  lands. 

Philip  the  Rash,  in  his  ordinance  of  1275,  held  that  a 
piece  of  property  was  effectively  transferred  to  an  arti¬ 
ficial  person  if  the  right  had  been  purchased  from  three 
successive  suzerains,  even  if  the  king  was  not  one  of  the 
three.  Charles  V  laid  down  a  rule  which  was  more  favor¬ 
able  to  the  monarchy:  he  declared  that  the  king  (for 
himself  and  for  the  whole  kingdom)  had  the  sole  final 
right  to  liberate  from  the  obligations  of  mortmain.  The 
lords,  who  were  subjects  of  the  king,  might  liberate  from 
these  obligations  all  the  property  held  by  them,  as  far  as 

196 


The  Church  and  Feudalism 


concerned  their  rights ;  but  no  property  whatever  was  to 
be  regarded  as  fully  liberated  until  the  king  had  made  the 
final  grant.  So  long  as  he  had  not  received  the  money 
to  which  he  had  a  right,  he  might  require  the  possessors 
to  put  the  property  out  of  their  hands  within  a  year  and 
a  day,  under  penalty  of  confiscation. 

The  Church  protested  against  all  these  financial  inter¬ 
ferences — against  the  tenths  and  the  failles,  against  the 
customary  obligation  to  empty  its  hands  within  a  fixed 
period,  and  sometimes  even  against  the  requirement  to 
purchase  liberation  from  this  obligation.  Many  church 
councils  demanded  exemption  not  only  from  all  taxation 
on  the  lands  of  the  Church,  but  even  on  the  hereditary 
property  of  the  clerks.  The  protestations  and  complaints 
of  the  Church  never  produced  any  permanent  result. 

If  the  laymen  were  frightened  at  the  prodigious  growth 
of  property  in  mortmain, — a  not  unreasonable  fear  at  a 
time  when  land  was  almost  the  sole  wealth, — the  churches, 
for  their  part,  had  their  fears,  although  they  were  of  quite 
another  order.  It  is  curious,  but  true,  that  these  fears 
gave  rise,  now  and  then,  to  precautions  analogous  to  those 
taken  by  the  lay  portion  of  society.  We  see  powerful 
churches  disturbed  by  the  possible  entry  into  their  terri¬ 
tories  of  personages  who  might  become  for  them  trouble¬ 
some  or  redoubtable  vassals ;  we  see  them  bar  the  way  to 
lords  and  to  knights  who,  turbulent,  grasping,  or  thievish, 
would  have  quickly  crushed  a  pacific  abbey.  Hence  those 
regulations  or  conventions  which  prohibited  a  knight  ac¬ 
quiring  any  ecclesiastical  territories ;  for  the  caprice  of  an 
enterprising  knight  might,  at  any  moment,  overturn  the 
whole  equilibrium  of  the  country-side.  Certain  churches 

197 


Medieval  Civilization 

went  to  the  length  of  forbidding  such  laymen  even  to  enter 
their  territories.  Some  Italian  abbeys  prudently  inserted 
in  their  emphyteutic  leases  a  clause  which  permitted  sub¬ 
letting  except  to  two  classes  of  persons :  knights  and 
churches.  Both  of  these  were  importunate  guests,  al¬ 
though  for  different  reasons.  The  powerful  commune  of 
Strasburg  was  especially  afraid  of  churches ;  it  inserted 
in  a  certain  contract  of  enfeoffment  a  provision  which 
forbade  any  sort  of  alienation  that  should  redound  to  the 
benefit  of  any  church  whatsoever.  The  republic  of  Stras¬ 
burg  finally  forbade  any  legacy  for  pious  purposes. 

Lay  society,  however,  was  not  always  perfectly  con¬ 
tented  with  such  measures  of  defense  against  the  exces¬ 
sive  wealth  of  the  Church.  There  were  ardent  spirits  who 
could  not  be  satisfied  with  what  they  considered  mere 
palliatives.  These  radicals  lifted  up  their  voices  for  con¬ 
fiscation.  In  the  twelfth  century,  Arnold  of  Brescia  main¬ 
tained  that  neither  the  secular  nor  the  regular  clergy  ought 
to  possess  landed  property.  In  the  fourteenth,  Wyclif 
taught  that  temporal  princes  had  a  right  to  confiscate  the 
property  of  the  Church  if  it  were  abused  or  misused.  In 
the  fifteenth,  John  Huss  went  even  further  than  this,  and 
asserted  that  any  one  who  should  maintain  that  the  priests 
and  Levites  might  have  temporal  possessions  was  the 
greatest  of  heretics.  Such  demands  were  not  novel ;  they 
were  nothing  but  a  translation  into  revolutionary  language 
of  the  aspirations  of  a  Joachim  de  Flore  and  a  John  of 
Parma.  Nay,  more :  the  whole  Franciscan  order  was  a 
permanent  protest  against  a  wealthy  clergy,  and  it  itself 
issued  from  a  still  earlier  movement. 


1.98 


The  Church  and  Feudalism 


Adapted  from  C.  Seignobos,  in  Lavisse  et  Rambaud: 
Histoire  GenSrale,  Vol.  II,  1893,  pp.  43-45. 

FEUDALISM  did  not  involve  the  abandonment  by 
the  clergy  of  their  ancient  organization,  whose  foun¬ 
dation  principles  were  the  hierarchy  of  offices  and  the 
absolute  obedience  of  inferiors  to  superiors.  Even  in  the 
most  confused  epochs,  when  the  “  spirit  of  the  times  ” 
affected  the  clergy  most  deeply,  the  Church  never  incor¬ 
porated  a  feudal  principle  into  its  organization,  and  the 
inferior  churchman  never  did  homage  to  a  superior 
churchman  nor  accepted  from  him  his  office  as  a  fief. 

Clerks,  like  women,  were  in  theory  strangers  to  feudal¬ 
ism,  since  they  were  forbidden  by  the  law  of  the  Church 
to  bear  arms.  Nevertheless,  the  clergy,  at  least  the  higher 
clergy,  had,  like  the  women,  their  part  in  the  feudal 
regime,  for  the  parish  priests  who  served  their  bishop  or 
the  patron  of  their  church,  and  the  monks  who  rendered 
obedience  to  their  abbot,  were  in  a  state  of  subjection  not 
unlike  that  of  the  tenant  to  his  lord. 

The  higher  clergy  possessed  great  domains,  the  accu¬ 
mulated  gifts  of  centuries,  presented  to  the  Church  in 
every  Christian  land  by  lay  proprietors  seeking  their 
favor,  in  order  that  the  patron  saint  of  church  or  abbey 
might  make  intercession  in  heaven  on  their  behalf. 

199 


Medieval  Civilization 


Hence  the  landowners  frequently  gave,  especially  by  way 
of  bequest,  to  a  saint  or  his  church,  “  for  the  redemption 
of  their  sins  ”  or  “  for  the  safety  of  their  soul,”  a  part  of 
their  “  terrestrial  property,”  often  some  pieces  of  land, 
sometimes  whole  villages.  There  was  no  bishopric,  ab¬ 
bey,  chapter  of  canons,  or  collegiate  church  which  had  not 
in  this  way  become  a  great  landowner.  Because  of  their 
riches,  they  required,  like  lay  lords,  an  escort  of  soldiers 
to  defend  them  or  enhance  their  dignity,  and  they  accord¬ 
ingly  divided  up  a  portion  of  the  church  lands  into  fiefs 
and  secured  vassals  who  owed  them  homage  and  service. 

The  bishops  and  abbots  were  assimilated,  since  the 
time  of  Charlemagne,  with  the  high  officials  of  the  State. 
They  owed  homage  to  the  king,  and  were  bound  to  lead 
their  men  to  his  army.  This  usage  held  its  ground  in  the 
north  of  the  kingdom  of  France,  and  took  such  root  in  the 
kingdom  of  Germany  that  the  bishops  and  abbots  came, 
at  length,  to  consider  their  ecclesiastical  offices  as  fiefs 
held  of  the  king,  and  received  investiture  from  him  by 
receiving  a  banner  in  the  same  fashion  as  lay  recipients 
of  fiefs. 

The  prelates  thus  formed  a  superior  class  of  the  clergy, 
which  fused  with  the  higher  feudal  nobility.  In  all  Chris¬ 
tian  lands,  these  prelates,  as  celibates,  could  not  recruit 
their  ranks  by  heredity,  and  their  successors  were  almost 
always  chosen  from  clerks  of  noble  birth.  Ecclesiastical 
dignities  served  thus  as  a  provision  for  younger  sons  of 
great  families.  Many  of  these  retained  in  their  high  ec¬ 
clesiastical  offices  the  habits  of  their  youth ;  they  con¬ 
tinued  to  be  hunters,  topers,  and  warriors,  after  the  fash-  ( 
ion  of  the  well-known  archbishop  of  Mainz  who,  to  avoid 


200 


The  Church  and  Feudalism 


the  shedding  of  blood,  which  was  forbidden  to  a  church¬ 
man,  fought  with  a  club. 

The  monasteries  required  defense  against  the  knights 
who  lived  near  them,  and  who  were  not  always  to  be  in¬ 
timidated  by  excommunication.  Many  of  them  came  to 
an  understanding  with  a  lord,  who  undertook  to  defend 
them  in  return  for  dues  to  be  collected  from  the  monas¬ 
tery’s  tenants.  Such  a  lord  was  known  as  the  monas¬ 
tery’s  guardian  or  advocate.  As  a  rule,  the  advocate  was 
an  oppressor  rather  than  a  defender,  and  the  monastic 
documents  teem  with  complaints  against  the  advocates. 
The  bishops  also  had,  occasionally,  lay  defenders  of  this 
sort. 


201 


The  Exercise  of  Feudal  Rights  over 
the  Church  in  Languedoc, 

900- 1250 

Adapted  from  A.  Molinier,  in  Dom.  Cl.  Devic  et  Dom.  J. 
Vaissete:  Histoire  Generate  de  Languedoc,  Edition  Privat,  Vol. 
VII,  1879,  pp.  167-171. 

TN  the  Middle  Ages  the  Church  had  possession  of  the 
1  greater  part  of  the  arable  land,  and  the  feudal  era, 
when  brute  force  only  too  often  triumphed  over  right,  ex¬ 
posed  it  to  a  variety  of  dangers. 

The  churches  of  Languedoc  had  received  rich  gifts 
and  most  extensive  privileges  from  the  Carolingian 
princes,  and  when  feudalism  became  prevalent  they 
sought  to  keep  intact  the  heritage  of  the  past.  As  long 
as  a  king  of  the  legitimate  line  reigned  at  Paris  or  Laon, 
the  bishops  and  abbots  sought  from  him  the  confirmation 
of  their  privileges,  and  many  of  the  prelates  secured  fur¬ 
ther  confirmations  from  the  Capetians.  By  such  mea¬ 
sures,  the  majority  of  the  cathedral  churches  of  Langue¬ 
doc  obtained  possession  of  a  number  of  sovereign  rights 
within  their  dioceses,  and  when  the  time  of  feudal  usur¬ 
pations  came,  some  of  them  were  able  to  offer  a  success¬ 
ful  resistance.  In  general  the  feudal  powers  made  serious 
inroads  upon  them,  and  it  was  only  after  the  reforms  of 


202 


The  Church  in  Languedoc 

Gregory  VII,  and  the  journeys  of  Urban  II  and  Calixtus 
II  into  Languedoc,  that  they  regained  the  tithes  and  se¬ 
cured  the  restoration  of  the  members  of  the  clergy  to  the 
enjoyment  of  all  their  privileges. 

The  lands  of  the  Church  were  spoken  of  as  allodial; 
they  were  considered  free.  As  such,  they  were  exempt 
from  all  the  imposts  which  bore  so  heavily  upon  the  rest 
of  the  country.  The  Church  had  no  tax  to  pay  for  the 
houses  which  it  owned  in  the  cities.  Its  buildings  en¬ 
joyed  the  right  of  asylum,  and  this  right,  though  often 
violated,  was  always  formally  recognized. 

The  Carolingian  epoch  witnessed  the  imposition  of 
burdens  upon  the  Church.  The  majority  of  the  cathedral 
churches  and  abbeys  of  the  Frankish  kingdom  had  secured 
the  royal  protection  ( mundium ).  This  naturally  placed 
them,  the  protected,  under  obligations  to  their  protector, 
and  in  virtue  of  their  position  the  abbot  and  the  bishop 
were  regarded  as  the  vassals  of  the  prince,  and  their  lands 
were  said  to  be  held  of  him  as  benefices.  The  count,  who 
was  the  local  representative  of  the  royal  power,  quite  as 
naturally  exercised  a  certain  jurisdiction  over  the  lands 
in  question,  and  this  increased  as  the  monarchy  declined. 
When,  about  the  middle  of  the  tenth  century,  the  royal 
power  ceased  to  be  felt  in  Languedoc,  the  prelates  became 
the  vassals  of  the  count,  who,  so  far  as  authority  over  the 
Church  was  concerned,  now  stepped  into  the  royal  shoes. 
The  Church  remained  in  about  the  same  condition  as  in 
the  first  period  of  the  feudal  era ;  it  had  to  submit  to  the 
same  yoke,  although  the  weight  was  probably  heavier  by 
reason  of  the  nearness  of  the  suzerain. 

The  peculiar  situation  in  which  the  cathedral  and  abbey 
203 


Medieval  Civilization 

churches  thus  found  themselves  exposed  the  election  of 
the  bishops  and  abbots  to  lay  influences,  i.  e.,  to  simony. 
This  trafficking  in  ecclesiastical  offices  had  existed  from 
an  early  period,  and  had  been  a  common  practice  of  the 
Merovingian  kings.  Charlemagne  repressed  it,  but  it 
reappeared  under  his  successors,  and  in  the  tenth  century 
was  still  common.  For  example,  Guigo,  although  canoni¬ 
cally  elected,  could  not  become  bishop  of  Gerone  until  he 
had  received  formal  consent  from  Charles  the  Simple. 
In  the  succeeding  age,  when  the  bishoprics  had  become 
veritable  fiefs,  the  offices  were  sold.  In  a  list  of  posses¬ 
sions  which  he  divided  among  his  children  in  1002,  Roger 
the  Old,  count  of  Carcassonne,  includes  bishoprics  and 
abbeys.  Several  extant  charters  prove  that  the  bishop- 
elect,  before  entering  into  possession  of  his  see,  had  to 
pay  to  the  prince  of  the  land  a  sum  of  money  varying  ac¬ 
cording  to  time  and  place.  The  right  to  receive  the  gift 
made  by  the  bishop  on  his  election,  the  donum  de  episcopo 
Albiensi,  was  presented  by  Count  Pons  to  his  wife,  in 
1037,  as  a  dowry.  A  certain  family  partition  of  1035  in“ 
volved  the  greatest  abbeys  of  lower  Languedoc,  just  as  if 
they  were  so  many  fiefs,  and  the  suzerain  of  these  “  fiefs  ” 
had  the  right  to  choose  the  abbot  ( electio )  and  to  receive 
the  customary  gift  ( donum ).  In  1038  the  bishopric  of 
Albi  was  a  true  fief;  the  reversion  was  sold  to  a  certain 
individual  who  was  not  even  called  a  clerk,  and  the  pay¬ 
ment  he  made  for  the  ultimate  right  of  succession  was 
divided  between  the  count  of  Toulouse,  who  was  the  over- 
lord,  and  the  immediate  suzerain.  In  1132  the  overlord 
sold  out  his  right  of  electio  to  the  immediate  suzerain. 
The  history  of  the  sale  of  the  archbishopric  of  Narbonne 

204 


The  Church  in  Languedoc 

gives  the  clearest  possible  evidence  of  the  state  of  affairs. 
It  was  sold  to  the  ten-year-old  son  of  the  count  of  Cer- 
dagne.  The  count  himself  was  a  man  of  exemplary  piety, 
the  founder  of  a  monastery,  and  the  viscount  of  Narbonne 
gave  a  fully  detailed  account  of  the  whole  commercial 
transaction  before  an  assembly  of  prelates. 

By  reason  of  this  vassalage,  the  bishop  had  to  take  the 
oath  of  fidelity  to  his  suzerain.  In  1069  the  bishop  of 
Urgel  swore  fidelity  to  the  count  of  Cerdagne  and  for¬ 
mally  admitted  that  he  and  his  successors  were  bound  in 
perpetuity,  and  that  the  bishop  must  take  the  oath  before 
he  could  exercise  his  functions. 

The  right  to  take  possession  of  the  property  of  a  de¬ 
ceased  bishop,  abbot,  or  parish  priest  ( droit  de  depouilles ) 
and  to  pillage  it  was  another  right  which  was  exer¬ 
cised  by  the  feudal  lord  over  the  Church.  Prelates  and 
priests  were  thus  regarded  as  subject  to  the  rules  of  mort¬ 
main,  and  were  held  incapable  of  making  a  will.  There 
is  no  doubt  that  from  the  eleventh  century  many  a  bishop 
was  freed  from  this  barbarous  right.  We  know  that  in 
974  the  bishop  of  Toulouse,  and  in  1006  the  archbishop 
of  Narbonne,  freely  disposed  of  their  movable  and  im¬ 
movable  property  by  will ;  but  perhaps  they  enjoyed  this 
privilege  because  of  their  noble  birth,  and  their  relation¬ 
ship  to  the  princes  of  the  land.  Whether  this  be  so  or  not, 
our  knowledge  of  this  feudal  right  is  derived  only  from 
the  charters  of  exemption  granted  by  feudal  lords  to 
churches.  The  first  bears  the  date  of  1084,  coming  thus 
from  the  epoch  when  Gregory  VII  fought  his  great  battle 
against  simony.  In  it  the  count  of  Toulouse  renounced 
the  exercise  of  the  right  at  Beziers,  and  authorized  the 

205 


Medieval  Civilization 


bishops  to  leave  their  property  to  the  cathedral  clergy. 
We  have  several  similar  charters  from  the  first  half  of 
the  twelfth  century.  In  1163  exemption  from  this  right  is 
mentioned  in  a  diploma  of  Louis  VII  in  favor  of  the 
church  of  Lodeve.  Already  in  1137  Louis  had  granted 
this  exemption  to  all  the  episcopal  churches  in  the  prov¬ 
ince  of  Bordeaux.  Many  other  cases  might  be  adduced. 

Notwithstanding  the  exemptions  from  the  droit  de 
dcpouilles  accorded  to  the  various  churches  of  Provence, 
fragmentary  survivals  of  the  right  always  remained.  In 
1213,  Bernard  of  Beziers  renounced  his  rights  over  the 
sacerdotal  vestments  and  the  equipage  used  by  the  bishop 
on  his  first  entrance  into  his  episcopal  city.  An  analogous 
right  was  enforced  against  the  property  of  the  parish 
priests.  This  right,  which  several  feudal  lords  of 
Rouergue  renounced,  appears  to  have  been  called  the 
right  of  testament. 

The  Church  was  both  rich  and  feeble,  and,  isolated  in 
the  midst  of  a  divided  and  warring  society,  awakened  the 
cupidity  of  all  the  unscrupulous  barons.  From  the  days 
of  the  Merovingians,  the  rich  domains  which  it  owed 
to  the  liberality  of  emperors,  kings,  and  the  faithful  were 
a  prey  to  the  powerful  men  who  were  partitioning  the 
land.  Charlemagne  found  it  impossible  to  restore  the  lost 
property  of  the  Church,  and  by  way  of  compensation  es¬ 
tablished  and  enforced  throughout  the  whole  extent  of 
his  empire  the  obligation  to  pay  the  Jewish  tithe  upon 
all  the  fruits  of  the  soil.  But  these  tithes  became  an  addi¬ 
tional  source  of  temptation  to  the  laymen,  who  coveted 
even  the  country  churches  themselves.  From  the  middle 
of  the  tenth  century  we  find  country  churches  transformed 

206 


The  Church  in  Languedoc 

into  fiefs,  and  the  priests  who  celebrated  the  offices  therein 
were  treated  as  vassals,  administering  the  property  of 
the  lord.  There  is  ample  evidence  that  most  of  the  coun¬ 
try  churches  of  Languedoc  suffered  this  fate.  The 
churches  became  a  part  of  the  patrimony  of  this  or  that 
lord ;  they  were  divided  up,  by  halves,  quarters,  and 
eighths,  etc.,  and  underwent  the  usual  vicissitudes  of  or¬ 
dinary  property. 

The  same  fate  overtook  the  tithes  and  first-fruits ;  they 
were  usurped  by  the  lords  and  either  granted  as  fiefs  to 
third  persons  or  collected  directly.  In  the  majority  of 
the  cases  of  the  sale  of  churches  in  the  seventh  century, 
with  which  we  are  familiar,  the  revenues  which  the  priest 
was  entitled  to  collect  went  along  with  the  church,  and 
these  revenues  must  have  been  of  considerable  value,  since 
the  parishes  were  generally  large,  especially  in  southern 
Toulousain. 

The  prelates  of  Languedoc,  backed  up  energetically  by 
the  Holy  See,  made  great  efforts  to  recover  their  property. 
In  990  a  provincial  council  held  at  Narbonne  decreed  ex- 
communication  against  those  who  kept  ecclesiastical  pos¬ 
sessions.  The  most  successful  assembly  in  this  particular, 
however,  was  held  at  Toulouse  in  1054,  under  the  presi¬ 
dency  of  a  legate  of  Pope  Nicholas  II ;  several  charters  of 
restitution  make  references  to  it.  To  this  council,  no  less 
than  to  the  efforts  of  Gregory  VII,  Urban  II,  and  Calix- 
tus  II,  must  be  attributed,  it  would  seem,  the  very  marked 
movement  toward  the  restoration  of  monasteries  and  the 
restitution  of  ecclesiastical  property  which  signalized  the 
beginning  of  the  twelfth  century. 

It  was  the  tithes,  especially,  which  the  prelates  of  the 
207 


Medieval  Civilization 


twelfth  century  sought  to  have  restored.  The  bishops  of 
Albi  and  Beziers,  and  the  abbot  of  Lezat,  in  the  diocese 
of  Toulouse,  strove  in  this  way  to  reconstitute  the  patri¬ 
mony  of  the  Church.  One  result  was  the  appearance  of 
the  large  tithe-owners  ( gros  decimateurs )  ;  the  bishop  of 
Albi  owned  the  greater  part  of  the  tithes  in  his  diocese, 
and  in  the  eighteenth  century  the  bulk  of  his  income  was 
still  derived  from  this  source.  The  bishop  of  Beziers 
secured  the  assistance  of  the  count  of  Montfort,  and 
through  his  agency  obtained,  in  1211,  the  restitution  of  a 
large  number  of  tithes  which  had  been  conferred  as  fiefs. 
Now  and  then  the  Church  legalized  the  enfeoffment  of 
the  tithes  in  return  for  an  annual  payment  in  wheat;  at 
other  times  the  restorer  of  usurped  tithes  reserved  the 
right  to  act  as  collector  and  retain  a  percentage  of  the 
product  for  his  trouble.  In  1215,  the  half  of  the  tithes  in 
the  diocese  of  Viviers  was  granted  in  fief  to  Simon  de 
Montfort  for  five  years ;  at  the  end  of  that  time  he  was 
to  return  it,  and  he  also  agreed  that  he  would  compel  the 
laymen  to  pay  their  tithes. 

This  custom  of  securing  the  aid  of  powerful  laymen  by 
the  gift  of  a  portion  of  its  income  was  not  a  new  one  in 
the  Church.  Abandoned  by  the  kings,  whose  charters 
were  powerless  to  protect  them,  the  abbeys  at  first  se¬ 
cured  the  protection  of  the  princes  of  the  country,  of  the 
new  dynasties.  For  example,  in  977  a  sort  of  provincial 
council,  made  up  of  the  principal  lay  and  ecclesiastical 
lords  of  the  Spanish  March,  confirmed  the  immunity  en¬ 
joyed  by  the  abbeys  of  Provence,  including  the  right  of 
high  justice.  Frequently  the  churches  made  use  of  an 
institution  analogous  to  that  of  the  vidame  in  the  North, 

208 


The  Church  in  Languedoc 

and  created  officers  whose  duty  it  was  to  protect  them,  in 
return  for  certain  revenues.  About  960  Raoul,  abbot  of 
Figeac,  transferred  sixty  churches  to  a  lord  of  Rouergue, 
to  be  held  by  him  in  fief,  on  condition  that  he  raised  three 
hundred  men  for  the  defense  of  the  monastery.  In  1076 
Artaud,  count  of  Pailhas,  acknowledged  himself  to  be  the 
cavallarius  of  the  abbey  of  Cuxa,  and  promised  faith¬ 
fully  to  protect  it  against  all  enemies. 


209 


The  Non-Universality  of  Feudalism 

Adapted  from  G.  Saige:  Une  alliance  defensive  ent.re  proprtttairec 
allodiaux  au  XIIlime  siecle.  Biblioth'eque  de  l’ Ecole  des  Chartes, 
1861,  pp.  374.375- 


THE  fief  was  by  no  means  universal  on  the  continent 
of  Europe,  even  when  feudalism  was  at  its  height. 
There  were  always  territorities  where  land  continued  to 
be  held  allodially.  Such  was  the  county  of  Toulouse,  now 
a  part  of  southern  France,  where,  in  the  twelfth  century, 
the  allod  was  the  general  rule  and  the  fief  the  exception. 
The  land-holders  were  consequently  free  from  all  feudal 
services,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  they  were  left  to  their 
own  resources  for  the  defense  of  their  lands  in  case  of 
war  or  violent  usurpation.  It  necessarily  followed  that, 
lacking  a  suzerain  whose  feudal  duty  it  was  to  protect 
them,  they  were  compelled  to  resort  to  other  means  to 
safeguard  their  property. 

To  be  sure,  they  might  beg  the  protection  of  a  neigh¬ 
boring  lord,  but  such  protection  was  often  illusory,  and 
had  this  grave  inconvenience,  that  it  gave  the  lord  an 
opportunity  to  assert  rights  over  the  property  entrusted 
to  his  protection,  and  thus  to  absorb,  to  his  own  advan¬ 
tage,  the  independence  of  the  allodial  lands. 

The  allodial  proprietors  of  Languedoc  fully  appreciated 
the  peril,  and  they  devised  another  method  of  defense, 


210 


The  Non-Universality  of  Feudalism 

which  gave  them  the  same  security  and  at  the  same  time 
permitted  them  to  escape  the  ruinous  protection  of  a 
feudal  lord.  The  method  was,  in  brief,  for  several  neigh¬ 
boring  proprietors  to  join  together  and  form  a  sort  of 
league  or  confederation,  in  which  all  guaranteed  recipro¬ 
cal  assistance  to  each.  As  long  as  the  alliance  held,  each 
member  was  bound,  in  the  interests  of  the  common  de¬ 
fense,  to  occupy  those  positions  in  the  domains  of  his 
allies  which  were  most  menaced.  The  obligations  of 
each  member  varied  according  to  the  importance  of  his 
property  and  according  to  the  needs  of  adequate  defense. 


21 1 


Byzantine  Civilization 

Adapted  from  C.  Bayet,  in  Lavisse  et  Rambaud:  Histoire 
Generate,  Vol.  I,  1893,  pp.  672-682. 

FROM  the  middle  of  the  ninth  to  the  middle  of  the 
eleventh  century  the  Byzantine  Empire  enjoyed  its 
highest  degree  of  prosperity.  Constantinople  was  then, 
in  every  one’s  estimation,  the  first  city  in  the  world.  Since 
then,  unfortunately,  the  Byzantine  city  has  almost  entirely 
disappeared.  A  part  of  the  walls,  and  some  churches 
transformed  into  mosques,  like  St.  Sophia,  are  the  only 
remains.  In  order  to  form  an  idea  of  its  extent,  and  of 
the  number  of  buildings  in  the  fourteen  regions  of  which 
it  was  composed,  the  texts  must  be  consulted.  Du  Cange, 
in  his  Constantino polis  Christiana  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  attempted  to  reconstruct  the  topography  of  the 
city,  and  new  researches  have  completed  his  work  in  some 
respects.  It  is  not  possible  to  enter  into  these  details  here, 
but  it  is  important  to  notice  that  some  institutions  which 
are  considered  peculiar  to  our  modern  cities  were  already 
in  existence  at  Constantinople.  Such  was,  for  example, 
the  department  of  public  charities,  which  included  a  large 
number  of  hospitals,  orphan-asylums,  and  schools. 

When  strangers  arrived  at  Constantinople  they  were 
filled  with  naive  admiration  for  the  imperial  palaces, 
which  extended  over  entire  quarters,  the  churches  spark- 


212 


Byzantine  Civilization 

ling  with  the  glory  of  mosaics,  gold,  and  silver,  and  the 
squares  and  streets  decorated  with  the  masterpieces  of 
ancient  sculpture.  No  secondary  account  is  as  valuable 
as  their  direct  testimony.  The  Jew,  Benjamin  of  Tudela, 
who  traveled  over  the  world  in  the  twelfth  century, 
wrote : 1  “  Great  stir  and  bustle  prevail  at  Constantinople 
in  consequence  of  the  conflux  of  many  merchants,  who 
resort  thither,  both  by  land  and  by  sea,  from  all  parts 
of  the  world  for  purposes  of  trade,  including  merchants 
from  Babylon  and  from  Mesopotamia,  from  Media  and 
Persia,  from  Egypt  and  Palestine,  as  well  as  from  Russia, 
Hungary,  Patzinakia,  Budia,  Lombardy,  and  Spain.  In 
this  respect  the  city  is  equaled  only  by  Bagdad,  the  me¬ 
tropolis  of  the  Mohammedans.  At  Constantinople  is  the 
place  of  worship  called  St.  Sophia,  and  the  metropolitan 
seat  of  the  pope  of  the  Greeks,  who  are  at  variance  with 
the  pope  of  Rome.  It  contains  as  many  altars  as  there 
are  days  of  the  year,  and  possesses  innumerable  riches, 
which  are  augmented  every  year  by  the  contributions  of 
the  two  islands  and  of  the  adjacent  towns  and  villages. 
All  the  other  places  of  worship  in  the  whole  world  do  not 
equal  St.  Sophia  in  riches.  It  is  ornamented  with  pillars 
of  gold  and  silver,  and  with  innumerable  lamps  of  the 
same  precious  materials.  The  Hippodrome  is  a  public 
place  near  the  wall  of  the  palace,  set  aside  for  the  king’s 
sports.  Every  year  the  birthday  of  Jesus  the  Nazarene 
is  celebrated  there  with  public  rejoicings.  On  these  oc¬ 
casions  you  may  see  there  representations  of  all  the  na¬ 
tions  who  inhabit  the  different  parts  of  the  world,  with 
surprising  feats  of  jugglery.  Lions,  bears,  leopards,  and 
1  Translation  from  Wright’s  Early  Travels  in  Palestine. 

213 


Medieval  Civilization 


wild  asses,  as  well  as  birds,  which  have  been  trained  to 
fight  each  other,  are  also  exhibited.” 

He  who  is  usually  deplorably  dry  breaks  into  a  veri¬ 
table  dithyramb  when  he  remembers  the  riches  of  Con¬ 
stantinople  :  “  The  tribute  which  is  brought  to  Con¬ 
stantinople  every  year  from  all  parts  of  Greece,  consisting 
of  silks,  and  purple  cloths,  and  gold,  fills  many  towers. 
These  riches  and  buildings  are  equaled  nowhere  in  the 
world.  They  say  that  the  tribute  of  the  city  alone  amounts 
every  day  to  twenty  thousand  florins,  arising  from  rents 
of  hostelries  and  bazaars,  and  from  the  duties  paid  by 
merchants  who  arrive  by  sea  and  by  land.  The  Greeks 
who  inhabit  the  country  are  extremely  rich,  and  possess 
great  wealth  in  gold  and  precious  stones.  They  dress  in 
garments  of  silk,  ornamented  with  gold  and  other  valu¬ 
able  materials.  They  ride  upon  horses,  and  in  their  ap¬ 
pearance  they  are  like  princes.  The  country  is  rich,  pro¬ 
ducing  all  sorts  of  delicacies,  as  well  as  abundance  of 
bread,  meat,  and  wine.” 

The  Byzantine  Empire  had  commercial  relations  with 
all  the  peoples  who  surrounded  it.  From  Damascus  and 
Aleppo  it  received  the  wares  of  the  far  East.  When  the 
Greeks  reconquered  Antioch,  a  treaty  was  made  with  the 
prince  of  Aleppo  (969-970)  ;  freedom  of  trade  for  the 
caravans  and  the  Greek  merchants  was  stipulated,  and  we 
see  that,  if  Antioch  received  Oriental  goods  which 
passed  through  it  to  the  West,  on  the  other  hand  articles 
of  Byzantine  manufacture,  especially  cloth  stuffs,  were 
exported  to  the  Arabic  lands. 

On  the  north,  Trebizond  was  very  important  as  the 
warehouse  for  the  trade  of  the  Levant.  The  Arabic  geog- 

214 


Byzantine  Civilization 

rapher  Istakhri  wrote  in  the  tenth  century:  “Trebizond 
is  the  frontier  city  of  the  Greeks.  All  our  merchants  go 
there,  all  the  cloths  of  Byzantine  manufacture  come  there, 
all  the  brocades  which  are  imported  into  our  country  come 
by  way  of  Trebizond.”  In  another  direction  the  Greek 
merchants  were  in  constant  intercourse  with  Alexandria. 
At  the  beginning  of  the  ninth  century  Leo  V  had  forbidden 
the  Greeks  to  go  to  Egypt  and  Syria,  but  such  a  prohibi¬ 
tion  could  not  be  enforced.  Eastern  wares,  spices  from 
the  Indies,  drugs,  precious  stones,  fabrics  of  Arabian  silk, 
were  carried  then,  in  great  quantities,  to  Constantinople, 
to  Salonica,  and  to  Cherson,  and  thence  spread  throughout 
the  empire  and  among  the  neighboring  countries. 

Still  farther  north,  the  most  ancient  Russian  chroniclers 
speak  of  a  route  from  Constantinople  to  the  Baltic,  which 
started  at  the  mouth  of  the  Dnieper,  on  the  Black  Sea,  and 
ended  at  the  mouth  of  the  Neva,  after  having  passed  the 
great  cities  of  Kiev  and  Novgorod.  It  was  less  used  by 
the  Greek  merchants  than  by  the  Scandinavians  and  the 
Russians.  Many  Russian  merchants  went  to  Constanti¬ 
nople,  but  they  were  very  closely  watched  there ;  they  had 
to  live  in  a  quarter  outside  the  city,  and  were  never  al¬ 
lowed  to  remain  during  the  winter.  They  carried  with 
them  furs,  honey,  wax,  and  slaves,  and  they  took  back 
silks,  gold  and  silver  brocades,  and  wine.  It  seems  that 
the  Byzantine  wares  reached  Germany  only  through  the 
agency  of  Venetians,  Slavs,  or  Bulgarians.  Bulgarian 
merchants  had  settled  at  Constantinople.  To  allay  the 
jealousy  of  the  Greek  merchants  an  attempt  was  made 
to  force  them  to  move  their  shops  to  Salonica.  This  was 
the  cause  of  the  war  between  Leo  VI  and  Czar  Simeon. 


215 


Medieval  Civilization 


In  France  the  Byzantine  wares,  which  were  very  much 
sought  after,  came  by  way  of  Italy.  Several  Italian 
cities,  especially  Bari,  Amalfi,  and  Venice,  carried  on  an 
active  commerce  with  the  East.  The  Genoese  and  the 
Pisans  did  not  have  any  commercial  relations  with 
Greece  before  the  crusades. 

The  emperors  have  been  blamed  for  not  understanding 
“  the  advantages  of  a  broad,  commercial  policy ;  ”  in  fact, 
they  adopted  certain  restrictive  measures.  The  Byzantine 
custom-house  officers  allowed  foreign  wares  to  enter  the 
empire  only  after  having  inspected  and  examined  them 
minutely.  The  lead  seal  which  they  attached  to  the  pack¬ 
ages  indicated  that  the  import  duties  had  been  paid.  The 
export  of  Greek  products  was  watched  with  equal  care. 
The  luxurious  fabrics  were  the  principal  objects  of  expor¬ 
tation  to  the  West,  but  the  emperors  refused  to  let  the 
most  beautiful  cloths,  made  in  the  imperial  manufactories, 
go  out  of  the  country.  They  were  reserved  for  the  palace, 
for  St.  Sophia,  and  for  the  magnificent  gifts  made  to 
foreign  kings.  They  have  also  been  blamed  for  giving 
up  their  commerce  to  foreigners,  especially  to  Italians, 
and  for  burdening  the  exports  with  excessive  duties, 
which  are  reckoned  at  ten  per  cent.  It  should  not  be 
forgotten  that  these  duties,  which  did  not  prevent  com¬ 
merce,  furnished  to  the  empire  a  great  part  of  the  re¬ 
sources  which  it  needed.  There  are  no  definite  details  for 
the  total  revenue  of  the  Byzantine  State,  but  from  the 
partial  records  it  is  supposed  that,  at  the  time  of  the  fourth 
crusade,  they  must  have  reached  a  sum  which  would  be 
worth  about  $600,000,000  to-day.  This  figure  is  high; 
but,  according  to  Benjamin  of  Tudela,  Constantinople 

216 


Byzantine  Civilization 

alone  paid  to  the  treasury  nearly  one  sixth  of  this  sum. 
In  addition,  it  is  certain  that  some  emperors,  thanks  to 
their  wise  management,  left  considerable  amounts  in  the 
treasury.  Thus,  after  the  death  of  Basil  II,  the  reserve 
amounted  to  about  $200,000,000  in  our  money.  If  this 
emperor,  while  paying  ordinary  expenses,  effected  such 
a  saving,  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  revenues  of  the  em¬ 
pire  were  immense. 

In  addition  to  military  strength  and  wealth,  the  empire 
can  glory  to  a  certain  extent  in  its  literature.  At  By¬ 
zantium,  from  the  ninth  to  the  twelfth  century,  there  was 
a  renaissance  movement  which  produced  neither  genius 
nor  talent  of  great  originality,  but  shows  at  least  a  taste 
for  intellectual  pursuits  and  learned  researches.  Most  of 
the  manuscripts  by  which  the  works  of  Greek  literature 
have  been  preserved  date  from  this  epoch. 

The  studies  languished  in  the  Orient  after  Justinian 
closed  the  schools  of  Athens  and  suppressed  the  teaching 
of  law  except  at  Constantinople  and  Beyrout.  The  great 
university  of  Constantinople,  founded  by  Theodosius  II 
in  425,  became  the  only  important  center  for  study,  and 
even  there  instruction  was  often  neglected.  Literature 
had  taken  on,  since  Justinian’s  time,  an  almost  exclusively 
monastic  character.  An  important  reform  was  accom¬ 
plished  immediately  after  the  iconoclastic  controversy. 
Bardas,  brother  of  the  empress  Theodora,  very  carefully 
reorganized  the  school  in  the  palace  of  Magnaurus.  Al¬ 
though  he  was  opposed  to  the  iconoclasts,  he  did  not  hesi¬ 
tate  to  place  at  the  head  of  the  school  Leo,  who  had  been 
archbishop  of  Salonica  during  the  preceding  reign,  and 
had  resigned  when  the  images  were  reinstated.  Philoso- 

217 


Medieval  Civilization 


phy,  grammar,  geometry,  and  astronomy  were  taught 
there.  The  professors  were  chosen  from  the  wisest  men 
of  the  day ;  students  were  admitted  without  charge  to  the 
courses.  Those  who  worked  were  sure  of  the  imperial 
favor,  and  the  protection  was  not  merely  temporary. 
Under  Constantine  VII  the  schools  at  Constantinople 
were  very  prosperous.  The  masters  figured  among  the 
great  personages  of  the  empire;  official  documents  men¬ 
tion  the  “  prince  of  the  rhetoricians  ”  and  the  “  consul  of 
the  philosophers.”  Students  could  expect  their  knowledge 
to  raise  them  to  the  highest  offices.  A  historian  of  Constan¬ 
tine  VII  describes  him  as  admitting  students  to  his  table, 
chatting  with  them  and  encouraging  them ;  from  among 
them  he  chose  his  officials  and  bishops.  If  the  university 
of  Constantinople  lost  its  prestige  later,  it  rose  again,  in 
the  eleventh  century,  under  Constantine  Monomachos, 
thanks  to  one  of  the  most  celebrated  Byzantine  scholars 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  Michael  Psellus.  After  rising  to  the 
highest  offices  through  his  reputation  as  a  scholar,  Psellus 
reorganized  the  university  and  taught  philosophy,  and  his 
friend  Xiphilin  taught  law.  Psellus  lectured  on  the  phi¬ 
losophers  and  the  ancient  poets.  Even  Arabs  came  to 
listen  to  him.  His  success  alarmed  the  Church  and  the 
emperor ;  the  university  was  closed,  and  Psellus  retired 
into  a  monastery. 

The  emperors  themselves  set  the  example,  and  several 
of  them  are  known  as  authors.  Basil  I,  although  a  soldier 
of  fortune,  attempted  to  bring  the  law  of  Justinian  into 
favor  again  by  two  manuals,  the  Prochiron,  which  was 
published  between  870  and  879,  and  the  Epanagogos,  be¬ 
tween  879  and  886;  but  the  latter  was  not  officially  pro- 

218 


V 


Byzantine  Civilization 

mulgated.  His  eldest  son,  Constantine,  wrote  a  treatise 
on  tactics.  His  second  son,  Leo  VI,  was  a  poet,  theolo¬ 
gian,  and  writer  on  military  matters ;  he  continued  the 
juridical  work  of  his  father,  and  published  the  vast  col¬ 
lection  of  the  Basilica  in  sixty  books.  Constantine  VII 
Porphyrogenetos  directed  the  literary  movement  of  his 
age,  and  wrote  the  life  of  Basil,  the  founder  of  the  dy¬ 
nasty.  In  the  book  of  Themes  he  traced— in  a  very 
defective  manner,  it  is  true — the  political  geography  of 
the  empire.  His  treatise  upon  The  Administration  of  the 
Empire  is  a  manual  of  diplomacy  composed  for  his  son. 
In  it  he  reviews  the  peoples  with  which  Byzantium  had 
dealings ;  he  describes  their  institutions  and  indicates  the 
policy  which  ought  to  be  followed  toward  them.  The  last 
chapters  give  some  details  upon  the  internal  organization. 
In  his  work  upon  Ceremonies  of  the  Court  of  Byzan¬ 
tium,  along  with  a  manual  of  imperial  etiquette,  there  are 
documents  of  all  kinds  and  schedules  of  expenses  for  some 
expeditions.  These  traditions  were  not  lost  in  the 
eleventh  century;  for  Caesar  Nicephorus  Briennius  wrote 
a  history  of  his  own  times,  and  his  wife,  the  learned  and 
ambitious  Anna  Comnena,  celebrated,  in  her  Alexiad,  the 
reign  of  her  father  Alexius  I. 

This  literature  is  especially  distinguished  for  its  eru¬ 
dition.  In  the  presence  of  the  treasure  of  learning  and 
the  works  which  antiquity  had  bequeathed  to  them,  the 
Greeks  of  Byzantium  were  dazzled,  and  often  lost  the 
feeling  for  their  own  individuality.  They  thought  of  little 
else  than  placing  themselves  in  the  midst  of  all  these 
riches  and  making  an  inventory  of  them ;  they  formed 
immense  collections  of  extracts,  notes,  and  summaries. 


219 


Medieval  Civilization 


Photius,  the  most  illustrious  of  the  Byzantine  scholars, 
was  a  compiler.  He  seems  to  have  read  everything,  pagan 
or  Christian,  which  the  Hellenic  literature  had  produced, 
in  order  to  compose  his  Library  or  Myriobiblos,  a  vast 
collection  of  analyses  and  selections.  Constantine  Por- 
phyrogenetos  and  the  group  of  writers  who  worked  un¬ 
der  his  orders  were  inveterate  compilers.  Constantine 
found  that  the  historical  works  were  so  numerous  that 
no  one  dared  to  venture  into  this  confused  medley,  which 
frightened  people  even  when  they  heard  it  spoken  of. 
“  In  order  to  aid  the  drowning  science  ”  he  got  together 
all  these  works  and  had  extracts  and  summaries  made  in 
fifty-three  books ;  two  were  to  be  devoted  to  Embassies, 
one  to  Conspiracies,  one  to  the  Capture  of  Cities,  one  to 
Sentences,  etc.  Only  a  small  part  of  this  immense  collec¬ 
tion  is  extant.  Another  collection,  the  Geoponics,  con¬ 
tains  extracts  upon  agriculture,  in  twenty  books.  Others 
relate  to  morals,  military  science,  medicine,  or  veterinary 
science.  Symeon  Metaphrastus,  one  of  the  chief  officials 
of  Constantine  VII,  compiled  a  celebrated  collection  of 
Lives  of  the  Saints.  He  preceded  the  Bollandists,  but  he 
was  an  uncritical  Bollandist.  In  the  last  half  of  the  tenth 
century  and  at  the  beginning  of  the  eleventh,  Suidas, 
author  of  the  lexicon  so  well  known  under  this  name, 
was  merely  a  compiler.  Many  ancient  works  were  lost 
because  of  these  curious  encyclopedias ;  when  the  latter 
were  at  hand,  people  too  often  ceased  to  read  and  copy  the 
originals. 

Although  this  spirit  dominates  the  literature,  it  would 
be  wrong  to  limit  our  attention  to  this  side  alone.  Minds 
were  not  always  bound  slavishly  to  tradition.  Sometimes 
in  his  sermons  Photius  applied  the  doctrine  of  Plato  to 


220 


Byzantine  Civilization 

Christianity;  he  even  recognized  that  it  was  right  to  ex¬ 
amine  critically  the  text  of  the  Holy  Bible.  He  refused  to 
see  in  earthquakes  or  hurricanes  signs  of  the  divine  anger 
chastising  men  or  showing  disapprobation  of  contempo¬ 
rary  events.  In  a  dialogue,  Philopatris,  or  The  Friend  of 
his  Country,  which  was  long  attributed  to  Lucian,  and 
dates  from  the  second  half  of  the  tenth  century,  the  in¬ 
terlocutors  discuss  religion  and  politics  freely,  and  one 
defends  the  pagan  beliefs.  Apparently,  this  work  was  in¬ 
tended  as  a  defense  of  the  measures  of  Nicephorus  Phocas 
against  the  monks.  There  were  many  historians  and 
chroniclers  during  this  period,  and  in  general  they  were 
more  exact  and  intelligent  than  those  of  the  preceding 
epoch.  Some  works  of  Psellus  give  a  vivid  idea  of  the 
society  in  the  eleventh  century,  and  at  times  they  are  writ¬ 
ten  in  a  lively  manner.  Finally,  poetry  produced  epopees 
inspired  by  contemporary  events,  which  may  be  called  the 
chansons  de  gestes  of  the  Orient.  In  Asia,  the  struggles 
against  the  Arabs  gave  birth  to  heroic  and  marvelous 
tales,— tragoudia, or  melodies, — which  occasionally  a  more 
learned  author  brought  together  in  a  poem.  Such  is  the 
recently  discovered  epopee  of  Digenis  Akritas,  defender 
of  the  empire  in  the  tenth  century  and  the  terror  of  the 
Saracens,  but  weak  in  love.  The  hero  of  this  poem,  in 
which  warlike  and  fanciful  themes  are  mingled,  really 
lived  under  the  name  of  Pantherius.  Many  of  the  Greek 
popular  songs  of  the  Middle  Ages  have  been  handed  down 
from  one  generation  to  another  until  our  own  day. 

It  was  also  a  beautiful  period  for  Byzantine  art.  The 
emperors  were  great  builders.  Constantine  VII  was  an 
artist  as  well  as  an  author.  He  painted,  he  directed  sculp¬ 
tors  and  goldsmiths.  The  great  imperial  palace  at  Con- 


221 


Medieval  Civilization 

stantinople  was  added  to  until  it  covered  an  entire  quar¬ 
ter.  The  texts  by  which  modern  scholars  have  been  able 
to  reconstruct  its  plan  and  appearance  overwhelm  our 
imagination  with  the  unheard-of  luxury  which  they  depict. 
Religious  architecture,  which  always  followed  the  cupola 
style,  attempted  a  revival  by  giving  more  elegant  propor¬ 
tions  to  the  churches,  as  in  the  church  of  the  Mother  of 
God  at  Constantinople,  and  others.  In  painting,  most  of 
the  beautiful  mosaics  and  mural  decorations  of  that  age 
have  disappeared ;  but  some  manuscripts  with  miniatures, 
like  the  Psalter  of  the  ninth  or  tenth  century  which  is  pre¬ 
served  in  the  Bibliotheque  Nationale,  show  a  curious  at¬ 
tempt  on  the  part  of  the  artists  to  free  themselves  from  the 
monastic  influence  and  to  draw  inspiration,  even  for 
Christian  subjects,  from  the  compositions  and  style  of 
ancient  art.  If  this  tendency  seems  to  have  waned  very 
soon,  nevertheless  sacred  iconography,  as  it  then  took 
shape,  is  distinguished  by  certain  qualities  of  workman¬ 
ship  and  by  remarkably  well  arranged  compositions. 
The  sculptors  had  practically  ceased  to  make  large  statues, 
but  the  Byzantine  artists  made  a  great  many  ivory  cas¬ 
kets  and  diptychs.  Specimens  of  these  are  to  be  found 
in  all  the  great  museums  of  Europe,  and  they  delight  us 
by  the  delicacy  of  the  workmanship,  and  at  times  by  the 
beauty  and  elegance  of  the  figures.  The  goldsmiths 
produced  superb  objects  in  gold  and  silver,  decorated  with 
enamel.  Very  many  of  these  were  carried  off  at  the 
time  of  the  capture  of  Constantinople,  and  first  enriched 
the  churches  and,  later,  the  museums  of  the  West.  For 
instance,  St.  Mark’s  at  Venice  possesses  a  treasury  made 
up  largely  of  Byzantine  objects;  the  most  beautiful  of 


222 


Byzantine  Civilization 

all  is  the  great  reredos  known  as  the  Pala  d’Oro,  which 
is  adorned  with  twenty-four  enameled  pictures  or  figures. 
The  popularity  of  the  fabrics  which  were  made  in  Greece 
has  been  mentioned  already.  Very  many  of  them  depicted 
scenes  and  were  covered  with  ornaments,  fantastic  ani¬ 
mals,  or  designs,  so  that  they  were  really  works  of  art ; 
the  imperial  dalmatica  kept  in  St.  Peter’s  at  Rome  shows 
several  religious  scenes,  in  particular  a  “  Triumph  of 
Christ  ”  in  which  there  are  fifty-four  figures. 

Until  the  eleventh  century  it  may  be  said  that  Byzan¬ 
tine  art  was  the  only  Christian  art  which  actually  pos¬ 
sessed  originality.  Its  influence  spread  widely.  Russian 
art  was  formed  in  this  school,  and  after  the  conversion  of 
Vladimir  his  successors  endeavored  at  Kiev  to  copy  Con¬ 
stantinople  when  they  constructed  or  decorated  churches. 
Georgian  and  Armenian  art  bear  a  family  resem¬ 
blance  to  Greek  art.  Even  the  Arabs,  hostile  to  the 
Christian  name  and  the  empire,  were  in  this  respect  tribu¬ 
tary  to  Byzantium ;  the  califs  of  Damascus  and  Cor¬ 
dova  borrowed  its  artists.  In  the  West,  if  we  visit  to-day 
Sicily,  southern  Italy,  Rome,  or  Venice,  we  constantly  find 
persistent  traces  of  the  Byzantine  influence.  These  are 
also  to  be  found  in  France,  whose  Roman  architecture  is 
connected  with  Byzantine  architecture ;  and  a  whole 
group  of  churches  in  Perigord,  Angoumois,  and  Sain- 
tonge  are  in  the  style  of  the  Oriental  cupola. 

In  short,  in  the  history  of  medieval  civilization,  before 
the  eleventh  century,  Byzantium  played  a  role  analogous 
to  that  of  Athens  and  Rome  in  antiquity  or  Paris  in  mod¬ 
ern  times.  Its  influence  extended  over  the  whole  world ; 
it  was  preeminently  the  city. 

223 


Moslem  Civilization  in  Spain 

Adapted  from  Dozy:  Recherches  sur  V histoire  et  la  litterature  de 
V Espagne  pendant  le  moyen  age,  1881,  Vol.  II,  pp.  103,  104,  and 
Vol.  I,  pp.  241-265. 

IN  certain  respects,  the  two  people  who,  in  the  eleventh 
century,  were  disputing  over  the  remnants  of  the  cali- 
fate  of  Cordova  were  as  unlike  as  possible.  Vivacious, 
ingenious,  and  civilized,  but  enervated  and  skeptical,  the 
Moors  lived  only  for  pleasure;  while  the  Spaniards  of 
the  North,  still  semi-barbaric,  but  brave  and  animated  by 
the  most  ardent  fanaticism,  cared  only  for  war,  and 
wanted  it  gory.  However,  these  two  nations,  so  different 
in  appearance,  really  had  several  traits  in  common :  both 
were  corrupt,  perfidious,  and  cruel ;  and  if  the  Moors 
were  generally  indifferent  enough  about  matters  of  faith, 
if  they  consulted  astrologers  in  preference  to  doctors  of 
religion,  if  they  were  not  ashamed  to  serve  under  a  Chris¬ 
tian  prince,  there  were  a  great  many  Castilian  knights 
who  did  not  scruple  “  to  live  by  fortune,”  as  they  said 
then,  to  take  Mussulmans  into  their  pay,  to  wage  war 
against  their  religion  and  country  under  the  standard  of 
an  Arab  knight,  or  to  pillage  and  burn  cloisters  and 
churches. 

At  this  time  the  principality  of  Almeria,  although  it  was 
not  as  important  as  it  had  been,  was  still  of  considerable 

224 


Moslem  Civilization  in  Spain 

size.  But  after  the  death  of  Man,  in  consequence  of  re¬ 
volts  on  the  part  of  governors  and  the  encroachments  of 
neighboring  princes,  it  became  smaller  and  smaller.  After 
1054,  when  Motacim  reigned  alone,  everything  went  from 
bad  to  worse.  Seeing  the  throne  of  Almeria  occupied  by 
a  young  man  without  experience  or  military  talent,  the 
other  princes  thought  they  had  a  right  to  take  from  this 
feeble  neighbor  the  cities  and  districts  which  were  con¬ 
veniently  located,  so  that  Motacim  was  soon  deprived  of 
all  his  States,  with  the  exception  of  his  capital  and  its 
surroundings. 

It  was  a  very  little  kingdom— so  small,  in  fact,  that  con¬ 
temporaries  spoke  of  it  only  jokingly,  and  the  more  so 
because,  as  a  whole,  it  had  few  natural  advantages.  For 
example,  this  is  the  way  that  an  Arab  author  speaks  of  it : 
“  This  province  is  very  small,  it  produces  little,  and  the 
whole  can  be  seen  in  a  single  glance ;  the  clouds  rain  upon 
it  their  beneficent  drops  to  no  advantage,  for  it  produces 
neither  fruit  nor  grain ;  almost  all  the  fields  are  barren, 
nothing  but  wormwood  grows  there.  But,  may  Allah 
forgive  me !  I  am  forgetting  to  speak  of  the  river  Pechina, 
this  great  river  which  sometimes  becomes  as  big  as  a 
rope !  Its  source  often  dries  up,  but  it  is  consoled  when 
the  drops  of  dew  or  rain  come  to  swell  it.”  In  these  ma¬ 
licious  words  there  is  a  great  deal  of  truth.  The  country 
between  Almanzora  and  Almeria  is  sandy  and  barren,  and 
the  plain  which  extends  from  Almeria  to  the  Cape  of 
Gata  is  a  veritable  desert.  On  the  other  hand,  the  coun¬ 
try  is  more  fertile  toward  the  southwest.  The  plain  of 
Daleya  is  not  cultivated  now,  but  at  that  time  some  reser¬ 
voirs  built  by  the  Moors  were  still  to  be  seen,  and,  if  we 

225 


Medieval  Civilization 


can  believe  a  modern  traveler,  a  few  springs  would  be 
enough  to  change  it  into  a  delightful  garden.  This  it  was 
under  the  Moors. 

On  the  whole,  in  spite  of  the  narrow  limits  of  his  king¬ 
dom,  Motacim  was  not  so  badly  off;  especially  as  his 
capital,  thanks  to  commerce  and  industry,  was  flourishing 
and  prosperous.  In  only  a  few  points  did  it  resemble  the 
present  Almeria ;  for  if  the  Moorish  aspect  of  the  city, 
with  its  low  and  flat-roofed  houses,  if  the  pleasing  man¬ 
ners  and  exquisite  politeness  of  its  inhabitants,  if  the 
melodious  voices  and  somewhat  swarthy  complexions  of 
its  women,  still  recall  to  memory  this  noble  nation  which 
was  once  the  most  civilized  and  enterprising  in  the  world, 
nothing,  on  the  contrary,  except  its  ruins,  leads  us  to  sus¬ 
pect  that  in  the  Middle  Ages  Almeria  was  the  most  im¬ 
portant  port  in  Spain,  that  it  was  frequented  by  Syrian  and 
Egyptian  vessels,  as  well  as  Pisan  and  Genoese;  that  it 
contained  a  thousand  inns  and  four  thousand  weaving- 
looms  ;  and  that  it  made  all  kinds  of  utensils  of  iron,  cop¬ 
per,  and  glass. 

The  sovereign  who  dwelt  there  was  the  finished  model 
of  the  most  pleasing  virtues.  Peaceful  above  all  else,  and 
not  desiring  to  trouble  the  quiet  of  his  subjects  for  ques¬ 
tions  of  personal  interest,  he  was  content  in  his  little  State 
and  did  not  seek  to  enlarge  it.  He  treated  his  kinsmen, 
people,  and  soldiers  with  fatherly  kindness,  and  strangers 
who  came  to  his  court  were  welcomed  with  generous  hos¬ 
pitality.  An  enlightened  patron  of  art  and  learning,  he 
encouraged  and  recompensed  talents  of  every  nature. 
Full  of  respect  for  religion  and  its  ministers,  he  loved  to 
hear  fakirs  discourse  upon  the  sacred  texts,  and  for  this 

226 


Moslem  Civilization  in  Spain 

purpose  assembled  them  regularly,  once  a  week,  in  a  room 
in  his  palace.  He  governed  justly.  When  he  built  the 
magnificent  palace  since  known  as  the  (^omadihia,  the 
workmen  took  possession  of  a  garden  which  belonged  to 
some  orphans.  Their  guardian  protested  in  vain  against 
this  arbitrary  action.  Then  he  resolved  to  appeal  to  the 
prince.  So  one  day  when  Motacim  was  in  his  park  he 
saw  in  the  canal  which  traversed  it  a  floating  reed  closed 
with  wax  at  both  ends.  He  had  it  brought  to  him,  and, 
breaking  the  wax,  he  found  a  note  in  which  the  guardian 
accused  him  of  being  responsible  in  God’s  sight  for  the 
injustice  committed  by  his  workmen.  The  prince  sum¬ 
moned  the  latter  immediately,  scolded  them  severely,  and, 
although  the  land  in  question  was  necessary  for  the  sym¬ 
metry  of  the  buildings,  he  restored  it  to  the  orphans. 
When  the  palace  was  completed  every  one  saw  that  there 
was  something  lacking.  When  some  one  called  the 
prince’s  attention  to  this  he  responded :  “  You  are  per¬ 
fectly  right ;  but  as  I  had  to  choose  between  being  blamed 
by  men  of  taste,  and  by  Allah,  my  choice  could  not  be 
doubtful.  I  assure  you  that  to  me  the  most  pleasing  part 
of  my  palace  is  precisely  the  missing  portion.” 

Besides  being  just,  Motacim  loved  to  pardon  offenses. 
He  had  heaped  a  poet  with  his  favors ;  but  when  the  lat¬ 
ter  went  to  Seville  to  the  court  of  Motadhia  ibn-Abbad 
he  was  so  ungrateful  that  he  dared  to  insert  this  verse  in 
a  dithyramb  composed  in  honor  of  this  prince : 

“  Ibn-Abbad  exterminated  the  Berbers,  Ibn-Man  the 
chickens  in  his  villages.” 

Motacim  was  informed  of  the  poet’s  joke ;  but  the  care¬ 
less  child  of  the  muses  had  forgotten  it  and  returned  to 

227 


Medieval  Civilization 


Almeria  some  time  later.  When  he  was  invited  to  supper 
at  the  palace  he  was  very  much  astonished  to  see  on  the 
table  nothing  but  chickens.  “  But,  my  lord,”  he  said, 
“  have  you  nothing  else  to  eat  in  Almeria  except  chick¬ 
ens?”  “We  have  other  things,”  replied  Motacim,  “but 
I  wanted  to  show  you  that  you  were  mistaken  when  you 
said  that  Ibn-Man  had  exterminated  the  chickens  in  his 
villages.”  The  poet  then  recalled  his  unfortunate  verses 
and  attempted  to  make  an  excuse ;  but  the  prince  said : 
“  Don’t  be  uneasy ;  a  man  of  your  profession  makes  his 
living  only  when  he  acts  as  you  have  done ;  I  am  angry 
only  with  the  prince  who  heard  you  recite  this  verse  and 
did  not  protest  when  you  insulted  one  of  his  equals.” 
Then,  wishing  to  show  the  poet  that  he  did  not  harbor 
malice,  he  gave  him  some  presents. 

Certainly,  if  such  a  noble,  generous,  just,  and  peaceful 
prince  had  ruled  at  another  time  and  over  a  more  exten¬ 
sive  land,  his  name  would  be  illustrious  among  those 
truly  great  rulers  who  do  not  owe  their  renown  to  the  tor¬ 
rents  of  blood  shed  in  order  to  extend  the  limits  of  their 
states  by  a  few  leagues,  but  to  the  good  that  they  did,  and 
to  the  measures  that  they  took  for  improving  the  condi¬ 
tion  of  their  subjects.  At  that  time  such  ' kings  were 
rare,  as  in  all  times,  and,  compared  with  the  other  princes 
who  were  then  ruling  in  Spain,  Motacim  was  an  extraor¬ 
dinary  man  in  every  respect.  He  had  nothing  in  com¬ 
mon  with  the  other  princes  except  one  characteristic : 
he  was  passionately  fond  of  literature,  and  we  shall 
attempt  to  give  a  sketch,  however  weak  and  imperfect 
it  may  be,  of  the  literary  movement  at  the  little  court  of 
Almeria. 


228 


Moslem  Civilization  in  Spain 

The  munificence  of  Motacim  had  already  drawn  to  his 
capital  a  large  number  of  wits  when  one  day  a  poor  young 
man  appeared ;  he  was  badly  dressed,  and  no  one  knew 
him.  He  came  from  the  village  of  Berja,  where  he  had 
been  brought  up  by  his  father,  a  man  of  great  wit 
and  learning,  and  his  name  was  Abou-’l  Fadhl  Djafar 
ibn-Charaf.  He  had  been  seized  by  the  idea  of  going  to 
Almeria  to  seek  his  fortune,  and,  in  spite  of  his  more 
than  modest  costume,  he  dared  to  present  himself  at  the 
palace,  hoping  that  his  title  of  poet  (for  he  was  one) 
would  suffice  to  open  its  doors  to  him.  His  hopes  were 
realized,  and  when  he  stood  in  the  presence  of  the  prince 
he  recited  a  poem  which  began  thus : 

“  For  a  long  time  Night,  very  slow  in  departing,  had 
been  promising  that  the  Dawn  would  appear ;  and  the  stars 
were  already  complaining  of  their  long  watch,  when  sud¬ 
denly  a  fresh  breeze  came  out  of  the  East  to  scatter  the 
darkness.  Then  the  flowers  breathed  forth  their  perfume, 
and  Aurora  rose,  blushing  with  modesty,  her  cheeks 
bathed  with  dew,  while  Night  passed  from  one  star  to 
another,  giving  them  permission  to  seek  repose ;  then 
they  sank  slowly,  one  after  another,  as  the  leaves  fall 
from  the  trees.” 

Continuing  in  this  style,  Ibn-Charaf  ended  his  poem 
with  a  pompous  eulogy  of  Motacim. 

The  prince  was  charmed  with  what  he  had  just  heard, 
and  loudly  expressed  his  admiration  for  the  young  poet 
who  knew  how  to  clothe  his  thoughts  in  such  fresh  and 
gracious  colors.  From  that  moment  the  fortune  of  Ibn- 
Charaf  was  made.  He  himself  might  perchance  still  be 
ignorant  of  it,  but  the  poets  of  the  court  had  no  doubt 

229 


Medieval  Civilization 

about  it,  and  some  of  them  were  extremely  jealous  of 
him.  One  of  these  was  Ibn-okht-Ghanim  of  Malaga. 
His  real  name  was  Abou-Abdallah  Mohammed  ibn- 
Mamar ;  but  as  he  was  not  of  distinguished  rank  by  birth, 
and  as  his  father  had  no  other  merit  than  being  the  hus¬ 
band  of  the  sister  of  the  celebrated  philologist  Ghanim, 
he  was  never  called  anything  but  Ibn-okht-Ghanim,  the 
son  of  the  sister  of  Ghanim,  a  very  disagreeable  and  hu¬ 
miliating  nickname  for  a  man  who  lived  in  such  a  rich 
and  aristocratic  society  as  the  Andalusian  then  was. 
Moreover,  he  was  a  very  good  poet  and  a  veritable  well 
of  science.  He  had  read  an  immense  number  of  books 
on  grammar,  jurisprudence,  theology,  and  medicine;  and, 
more  than  that,  he  knew  them  by  heart,  for  he  had  a  pro¬ 
digious  memory.  But  he  was  envious,  and  he  saw  in 
the  newcomer  a  rival  who  might  well  supplant  him,  some 
day,  in  the  favor  of  the  sovereign.  Wishing,  accordingly, 
to  confuse  him,  he  began  to  look  at  his  rustic  costume 
with  very  impertinent  curiosity,  and  asked  him  from  what 
desert  he  came.  He  paid  dearly  for  his  insolence.  With¬ 
out  being  disconcerted,  Ibn-Charaf,  whose  name  taken  in 
the  sense  of  an  appellation  signifies  son  of  the  nobility, 
replied  proudly :  “  Although  my  costume  is  that  of  an  in¬ 
habitant  of  the  desert,  I  am,  however,  of  a  noble  family. 
I  have  no  reason  to  blush  for  my  rank,  and  I  am  not 
known  by  the  name  of  a  maternal  uncle.”  He  had  the 
laugh  on  his  side,  and  for  the  moment  his  adversary, 
ashamed  of  his  discomfiture,  kept  silent ;  but  later  he 
took  revenge  in  composing  the  following  satire  against 
Ibn-Charaf : 

“  Ask  the  poet  of  Berja  if  he  thinks  that  he  comes  from 
230 


Moslem  Civilization  in  Spain 

Irac  and  has  the  genius  of  Bohtori.  This  plagiarist 
brings  poems  which  cry  out  when  he  holds  them  in  his 
hand,  ‘  What,  then !  ought  we  to  be  attributed  to  this  in¬ 
sipid  rhymster?  ’  Really,  Djafar,  leave  poetry  to  the  true 
poets,  cease  to  imitate  unsuccessfully  the  great  masters, 
and  make  haste  to  renounce  your  ridiculous  pretensions, 
for  the  delicate  lips  of  Poesy  repudiate  your  unclean 
kisses.” 

Fortunately,  Ibn-Charaf  could  do  without  the  esteem 
of  the  nephew  of  Ghanim.  He  had  been  successful  in 
pleasing  the  sovereign,  who  heaped  favors  upon  him. 
Once,  when  he  had  trouble  with  a  steward  who  wished  to 
make  him  pay  too  heavy  taxes  for  a  field  which  he  culti¬ 
vated  near  a  village,  he  complained  to  the  monarch  ;  after¬ 
ward  he  recited  to  him  a  poem  containing  this  verse : 

“  Under  the  reign  of  this  prince  all  tyranny  has  disap¬ 
peared,  except  that  exercised  by  the  maidens  with  bright 
eyes  and  slender  forms.” 

“How  many  houses  [bait]  are  there  in  the  village  of 
which  you  were  speaking  to  me  ?  ”  Motacim  asked. 
“About  fifty,”  replied  Ibn-Charaf.  “Well,”  the  prince 
replied,  “  I  will  give  them  to  you  for  this  single  verse 
[bait].”  And  he  at  once  gave  him  the  whole  village,  with 
exemption  from  all  taxes. 

Ibn-Charaf  was  not  merely  a  poet :  he  was  also  distin¬ 
guished  in  medicine ;  and  he  published  two  collections  of 
moral  maxims,  one  in  prose,  the  other  in  verse.  Some  of 
these  sayings  have  been  preserved,  and  the  following  may 
be  given  as  an  example : 

“  It  is  better  to  confide  in  your  own  strength,  how¬ 
ever  small  it  may  be,  than  in  that  of  your  friends,  how- 

231 


Medieval  Civilization 


ever  great  the  latter  may  seem ;  for  a  living  man  sup¬ 
ported  by  his  own  legs,  which  are  only  two,  is  stronger 
than  a  dead  man  borne  by  the  legs  of  those  who  carry  him 
to  the  cemetery,  although  they  are  eight  in  number.” 

Among  the  poets  at  the  court  of  Motacim,  Abou-Ab- 
dallah  ibn-al-Haddad  of  Guadix  was  especially  distin¬ 
guished.  In  his  youth  he  had  been  madly  in  love  with  a 
Christian  girl  named  Djamila,  whom  he  celebrated  in 
verse  under  the  name  of  Nowaira;  for  the  Arab  poets, 
like  those  of  Rome,  were  accustomed  to  address  their  mis¬ 
tresses  by  assumed  names.  However,  he  appears  not  to 
have  been  always  a  faithful  lover,  if  we  may  judge  by 
the  advice  which  he  gave  in  this  piece : 

“  Deceive  your  mistress  as  she  deceives  you,  and  you 
will  be  just;  learn  to  overcome  by  forgetfulness  and  care¬ 
lessness  the  love  which  she  has  inspired  in  you !  For 
young  girls  are  as  beautiful  and  as  prodigal  of  their  gifts 
as  rose-bushes ;  a  passer  has  plucked  one  rose,  the  next 
one  plucks  another.” 

This  prolific  poet— his  collected  verses  formed  three 
large  volumes — enjoyed  great  favor  from  Motacim,  and 
he  deserved  it  by  his  ability  and  varied  knowledge,  for  he 
was  eminent  also  as  a  mathematician  and  philosopher. 
He  wrote  upon  versification,  and  he  solved  riddles  with 
rare  ease,  a  talent  which  the  Arabs  appreciate  especially. 
But  he  lost  the  good  will  of  the  prince  by  his  ingratitude, 
his  irascible  temper,  and  his  caustic  wit.  Motacim  was 
not  easily  angered.  When  one  of  the  men  of  letters  at  his 
court  recited  to  him  these  two  verses,  “  Pardon  your 
brother  if  he  commits  a  fault  against  you,  for  perfec¬ 
tion  is  a  very  rare  thing;  everything  has  its  bad  side, 

232 


Moslem  Civilization  in  Spain 

and,  in  spite  of  its  splendor,  the  torch  smokes,”  the 
prince  was  astonished,  and  asked  what  poet  had  com¬ 
posed  them.  Informed  that  it  was  Ibn-al-Haddad,  he 
replied  smilingly :  “  Do  you  know  whom  he  meant  ?  ” 
“  No,”  replied  the  other;  “  I  only  know  that  it  is  an  in¬ 
genious  idea.”  “  When  I  was  young  and  he  was  with 
me,”  Motacim  said,  “  I  was  called  the  Torch  of  the  Em¬ 
pire.  May  Allah  curse  the  impertinent  rascal,  but  what 
admirable  verses  he  makes !  ” 

Sometimes,  however,  the  insults  of  the  poets  were  so 
cutting  that  they  forced  even  Motacim,  good-natured  as 
he  was,  to  be  less  clement  than  usual.  The  poets  were 
very  hard  to  please  at  that  time ;  they  became  angry  as 
soon  as  they  were  not  given  everything  that  they  de¬ 
manded,  and,  like  wholly  spoiled  children  as  they  were, 
they  then  abused  their  freedom  to  say  everything  they 
chose.  This  happened  in  the  case  of  Ibn-al-Haddad. 
Mortified  because  Motacim  had  refused  one  of  his  exor¬ 
bitant  demands,  he  composed  this  virulent  satire  against 
him : 

“  O  seeker  after  gifts,  leave  the  court  of  Ibn-Qomadih, 
this  man  who,  when  he  has  given  you  a  grain  of  mustard, 
retains  you  in  chains  like  a  captive  condemned  to  death. 
If  you  were  to  pass  at  his  court  as  long  a  life  as  Noah’s, 
you  would  be  just  as  poor  as  if  you  had  never  seen  him.” 

This  insult  was  too  cutting  to  be  pardoned.  Motacim 
had  been  able  to  bear  Nahli’s  jokes  about  his  love  of 
peace,  but  he  could  not  stand  an  accusation  of  avarice. 
So  Ibn-al-Haddad’s  disgrace  was  complete,  and  as  mis¬ 
fortunes  never  come  singly,  his  brother  happened  to  com¬ 
mit  a  murder,  and  the  order  was  given  to  arrest  both. 

233 


Medieval  Civilization 

They  succeeded  for  some  time  in  hiding,  but  at  last  the 
murderer  was  discovered  and  put  in  prison.  Then  Ibn- 
al-Haddad  left  Almeria  hastily,  and  took  refuge  in  Mur¬ 
cia.  Deprived  of  his  brother,  whom  he  loved  tenderly,  he 
was  profoundly  unhappy,  as  is  seen  in  these  verses : 

“  A  hostile  destiny  ever  pursues  us ;  we  ought  to  sub¬ 
mit  to  its  decrees,  whatever  they  may  be.  Ah !  I  know  it 
now ;  unless  fortune  follows  our  steps,  all  that  we  attempt 
is  useless.  Of  what  advantage  is  our  struggling,  if  for¬ 
tune  refuses  to  be  propitious  ?  Alas !  what  shall  I  do 
now  that  I  am  like  a  lance  which  has  lost  its  point  ?  ” 

When  Motacim  heard  this  piece  recited  he  said : 
“  There  is  more  common  sense  in  his  verses  than  in  his 
actions.  He  speaks  the  truth ;  there  is  no  happiness  at 
all  for  him  without  his  brother.  Well,  let  his  brother  be 
released  and  go  to  him.” 

In  accusing  Motacim  of  stinginess  Ibn-al-Haddad  had 
wounded  him  where  he  felt  it  the  most  keenly.  Motacim 
clung  with  an  almost  morbid  sensibility  to  his  reputation 
as  a  generous  prince  and  liberal  protector  of  men  of  let¬ 
ters.  If  any  one  denied  to  him  this  role,  which  was  in  his 
eyes  the  highest  of  all,  he  was  mortally  offended ;  recogniz¬ 
ing  it  was,  on  the  other  hand,  the  surest  way  of  gaining  his 
good  will.  Moreover,  it  was  necessary  to  do  so,  if  not 
tactfully  (the  prince  was  too  much  accustomed  to  flattery 
to  be  very  particular  in  this  respect),  at  least  in  a  graceful 
manner  and  especially  through  poetry. 

The  number  of  poets  at  the  court  of  Motacim  was  very 
large,  and  many  of  them  were  Almerians.  There  were, 
however,  others,  and  notably  a  whole  colony  of  refugees 
from  Granada.  Its  inhabitants  were  very  unfortunate  at 

234 


Moslem  Civilization  in  Spain 

that  time.  They  were  delivered,  bound  hand  and  foot, 
to  the  strange  and  bloody  caprices  of  their  African 
princes,  whom  they  despised  for  their  lack  of  civilization 
as  much  as  they  feared  for  their  cruelty.  Men  of  letters 
had  still  more  reason  to  complain  than  the  rest  of  the 
people ;  for,  in  the  eyes  of  the  ferocious  tyrants  of  Gra¬ 
nada,  human  intelligence  was  a  dangerous  enemy  which 
must  be  crushed  at  any  price.  Accordingly,  seeing  a 
sword  always  suspended  above  their  heads,  representa¬ 
tives  of  knowledge-  emigrated  in  great  numbers,  but  at 
different  times,  and  most  of  them  went  to  Almeria.  They 
knew  that  they  would  be  well  received  by  the  generous 
sovereign  who  ruled  there  and,  like  the  true  Arab  that  he 
was,  hated  the  Berbers  as  much  as  they  themselves  did. 
The  nephew  of  Ghanim,  of  whom  we  have  already  spoken, 
was  one  of  these  refugees.  His  uncle,  the  great  philolo¬ 
gist,  with  whom  he  lived,  had  urged  him  to  leave  the 
States  of  Badis.  “  This  tyrant,”  he  had  said  to  him, 
“  begrudges  life  to  all  men  of  letters.  For  my  own  part, 
I  do  not  cling  to  life;  I  am  old,  and  I  shall  die  to-day 
or  to-morrow :  but  I  cling  to  my  works,  and  I  do  not 
wish  them  to  perish.  Here  they  are— take  them ;  you  are 
young.  Go  and  live  in  Almeria.  The  tyrant  will  be  able 
then  to  kill  me,  but  I  shall  at  least  carry  to  the  tomb  the 
consoling  thought  that  my  works  will  survive  me.” 

Another  of  these  refugees  was  Somaisir  of  Elvira,  one 
of  the  most  ingenious  poets  of  the  period.  Proscribed  for 
satires  which  he  had  composed  against  the  Berbers  in 
general  and  their  king  in  particular,  he  was  already  in  the 
territory  of  Almeria,  where  he  thought  himself  safe,  when 
he  was  arrested  by  the  order  of  Motacim,  who  had  been 

235 


Medieval  Civilization 

led  to  believe  that  the  poet  had  also  composed  satires 
against  him.  Led  before  the  prince  and  ordered  to  recite 
these  satires,  he  cried  : 

“  I  swear  by  Him  who  has  delivered  me  into  your 
hands  I  have  said  nothing  spiteful  about  you,  but  here  is 
what  I  said : 

“  ‘  Adam  appeared  to  me  in  a  dream.  “  O  father  of 
men,”  I  said  to  him,  “  can  what  they  say  be  true?  Can  it 
be  that  the  Berbers  are  your  children  ?  ”  “  Ah  !  ”  he  cried 
indignantly,  “if  that  is  so,  I’ll  divorce  Eve.”’  Prince  Ab¬ 
dallah  has  proscribed  me  for  these  verses.  Fortunately, 
I  succeeded  in  escaping  by  putting  the  boundary  be¬ 
tween  him  and  me.  Then  he  plotted  to  bribe  some  one 
to  report  to  you  verses  that  I  had  never  made.  He  hoped 
that  you  would  kill  me,  and  the  plan  was  a  clever  one ;  for 
if  it  had  succeeded  he  would  have  been  revenged  and  at 
the  same  time  he  would  have  thrown  upon  you  the  odium 
of  this  unjust  act.” 

“  What  you  say  appears  to  me  very  plausible.  But 
since  you  have  recited  to  me  the  verses  which  you  com¬ 
posed  against  his  nation  in  general,  I  should  like  also  to 
hear  those  which  relate  more  especially  to  him.” 

“  When  I  saw  him  busy  in  fortifying  his  castle  at 
Granada,  I  said  :  ‘  Like  the  madman  that  he  is,  he  is  build¬ 
ing  his  prison ;  ah,  it  is  a  silkworm  spinning  its  cocoon.’  ” 

“  You  abused  him  finely,  and  you  did  well.  I  want  to 
do  something  for  you.  Do  you  wish  me  to  give  you  a 
present  and  let  you  go,  or  shall  I  protect  you  against 
him?” 

The  poet  having  replied  in  two  very  well  turned  verses 
that  in  his  opinion  these  two  propositions  could  be  recon- 

236 


Moslem  Civilization  in  Spain 

ciled  remarkably  well,  Motacim  said :  “  You  are  a  clever 
devil,  but  so  be  it :  I  grant  you  my  protection  and  a 
present.” 

Somaisir  remained  at  the  court  of  Motacim  until  the 
death  of  this  prince.  He  published  a  volume  of  satires 
with  this  title:  Remedy  against  Diseases;  Usurped  Repu¬ 
tations  Reduced  to  their  Proper  Value.  He  never  had  any 
reason  to  complain  of  Motacim ;  but  once  he  had  a  dis¬ 
pute  with  an  Almerian  noble  who,  after  ordering  a  poem 
in  his  own  praise,  refused  to  pay  for  it.  The  poet  knew 
how  to  avenge  himself  for  this  slight.  When  the  noble 
had  gone  to  enormous  expense  for  an  entertainment  to 
which  he  had  invited  the  king,  Somaisir  posted  himself 
on  the  road  the  prince  had  to  take  to  go  to  his  host’s 
house;  as  soon  as  the  prince  appeared  he  addressed  to 
him  these  two  verses  calculated  to  arouse  his  suspicions : 
“  O  King,  whose  appearance  brings  good  fortune  and 
whose  countenance  fills  with  joy  those  who  are  plunged 
in  grief,  do  not  go  to  eat  at  the  house  of  others !  Lions 
are  surprised  at  the  moment  when  they  are  eating.” 

“  By  Allah !  ”  said  Motacim,  “  he  is  right,”  and  he  re¬ 
turned  to  his  own  palace.  The  noble  lost  his  expenses, 
and  the  poet  was  avenged. 

The  court  of  Almeria  gloried  not  only  in  its  poets,  but 
also  in  its  learned  men,  among  whom  there  were  some 
of  the  first  rank,  such  as  Abou-Obaid  Becri,  the  greatest 
geographer  that  Arab  Spain  produced.  He  was  the  son 
of  a  sovereign  in  miniature  (a  lord  of  Huelva,  who  had 
sold  his  principality  to  the  king  of  Seville),  and  had  been 
educated  at  Cordova,  where  he  won  the  hearts  of  all  by 
his  graceful  figure,  vivacious  wit,  and  extensive  literary 

237 


Medieval  Civilization 


knowledge.  He  was  the  intimate  friend  of  Motacim,  who 
heaped  honors  and  riches  upon  him.  Viewing  life  as  so¬ 
ciety  then  viewed  it,  he  joyously  divided  his  time  between 
study  and  pleasure.  Nothing  was  more  varied  than  his 
occupations  :  sometimes  he  went  to  negotiate,  in  the  name 
of  his  master,  a  treaty  of  alliance  or  peace ;  sometimes  he 
labored  upon  his  great  work  on  The  Roads  and  the 
Kingdoms  (a  capital  book  of  which  we  still  possess 
some  parts,  such  as  the  description  of  Africa),  or  else 
upon  his  geographical  dictionary,  his  Modjam,  which  has 
come  down  to  us  complete  and  contains  the  analytical 
nomenclature  of  a  host  of  names  of  places,  mountains, 
and  rivers  mentioned  in  the  history  and  poems  of  the  an¬ 
cient  Arabs ;  sometimes  he  relaxed  from  his  serious  af¬ 
fairs  and  took  part  in  a  festival  where  wanton  gaiety 
reigned.  “  Ah,  my  friends,”  he  then  sang,  “  I  am  burn¬ 
ing  to  hold  the  cup  in  my  hands  and  to  breathe  the  per¬ 
fume  of  violets  and  myrtle.  Come,  then,  let  us  abandon 
ourselves  to  pleasure ;  let  us  listen  to  the  songs ;  let  us 
enjoy  this  day  far  from  the  eyes  of  the  indiscreet!  ”  The 
next  day,  either  from  remorse  of  conscience  or  because 
he  wished  to  silence  his  enemies  who  harshly  accused  him 
of  drunkenness,  he  zealously  went  to  work  again,  but  this 
time  to  write  a  serious  and  edifying  book,  a  treatise  in 
which  he  proposed  to  demonstrate  that,  in  spite  of  the 
objections  of  the  incredulous,  Mohammed  had  really  been 
the  prophet  of  God. 

Nothing,  indeed,  could  give  a  sufficiently  vivid  idea  of 
this  passion  for  intellectual  pursuits  which  formed  one  of 
the  most  distinctive  characteristics  of  the  court  of  Al- 

238 


Moslem  Civilization  in  Spain 

meria.  Every  one  there  made  verses;  Motacim  himself 
did  it,  as  well  as  his  sons  and  even  his  daughters. 

These  little  courts  in  Andalusia,  like  Almeria,  where 
the  people  gave  themselves  up  to  pleasure  thoughtless  of 
the  morrow,  where  at  every  opportunity  they  voyaged  to 
the  joyous  country  of  fancy,  presented  a  charming  spec¬ 
tacle.  But,  alas!  all  that  was  too  beautiful  to  endure. 
Side  by  side  with  the  poetry  there  was  the  sad  and  stern 
reality  personified  in  the  two  neighboring  kings,  Alphonso 
VI  of  Castile  and  Yusuf  the  Berber,  who  despised  intel¬ 
lectual  pursuits,  of  which  they  understood  nothing,  but 
who  both  possessed,  on  the  other  hand,  an  immovable 
determination  and  a  courage  which  was  proof  against 
every  danger— qualities  which  the  Andalusians  had  lost. 


239 


Chivalry 


Adapted  from  Flach:  Les  origines  de  V ancienne  France, 

Vol.  II,  1893,  pp.  562-576. 

MILES,  or  knight,  had  to  possess  ability  in  various 


II  directions.  He  had  to  be  strong,  robust,  and  ath¬ 
letic  in  order  to  support  the  weight  of  his  armor ;  he  had 
to  be  trained  in  riding  and  in  wielding  lance  and  sword. 
He  had  to  be  a  member  of  a  wealthy  family,  or,  if  he  were 
merely  in  the  lower  ranks  of  the  army,  he  had  to  win  his 
horse  and  armor  on  the  field  of  battle,  or  else  by  some 
striking  service  to  obtain  his  outfit  from  some  lord. 

The  knight  was,  therefore,  a  chosen  warrior  and  con¬ 
sequently  a  man  of  superior  rank.  He  took  precedence 
of  the  other  members  of  his  family  and  of  the  other  vas¬ 
sals  ;  he  was  invested  with  a  kind  of  social  supremacy. 
In  all  countries  where  militarism  occupies  a  preponderant 
position,  army  chiefs  hold  the  highest  rank.  The  differ¬ 
ence  in  rank  between  a  non-military  vassal  and  a  knight 
was  as  great  as  the  difference  which  exists  in  some  coun¬ 
tries  at  the  present  day  between  an  officer  who  is  a  noble 
and  a  peasant  or  citizen.  Chivalry  tended  thus  to  become 
a  military  caste,  as  among  the  Romans  and  the  Gauls.  It 
is  in  this  sense  that  Richer  speaks  of  the  ordo  militaris, 
equestris. 

Just  as  the  different  categories  of  persons  composing 


240 


Chivalry 

the  feudal  clan  were  distinguished  from  the  point  of  view 
of  military  service,  so  also  they  were  differentiated  by  the 
more  or  less  close  relationship  in  which  they  stood  to  the 
chief.  Naturally,  the  most  esteemed  and  also  the  most 
faithful  were  the  direct  descendants  and  the  adopted  kins¬ 
men  who  were  assimilated  to  them.  Now,  true  adoption 
“  in  the  place  of  a  son  ”  took  place,  exactly  in  accordance 
with  the  Germanic  custom,  by  the  gift  of  a  complete  out¬ 
fit  of  arms.  This  gift  was  made  regularly  by  the  father 
when  the  son  was  old  enough  to  bear  arms ;  consequently, 
if  a  stranger  made  the  gift  he  took  the  place  of  the  father. 
The  man  thus  armed  by  the  hand  of  a  lord  was  assimilated 
to  his  son  by  blood  and  was  placed  in  a  closer  relationship, 
both  in  fact  and  in  law,  than  that  which  was  created  by 
the  mere  gift  of  some  symbol  to  the  ordinary  vassal. 

For  this  reason  the  knight  held  a  double  position :  he 
was  both  the  best  soldier  and  the  best  vassal.  The 
knightly  order  formed  the  elite  of  the  army  and  the  elite 
of  feudalism. 

This  double  position  is  shown  in  all  the  old  French 
poems.  They  represent  chivalry  as  synonymous  with  the 
art  of  war,  with  its  training,  its  stratagems,  its  discipline, 
and  its  perfected  equipment ;  and  they  represent  chivalry 
as  also  synonymous  with  bravery,  resistance  to  fatigue, 
and  the  necessary  physical  force.  The  true  knight  was  the 
model  warrior.  Bravery  consisted  in  defending  one’s 
arms. 

At  the  same  time  chivalry  meant  perfect  fidelity  and 
devotion  to  death  to  the  chief  who  had  formed  the  knight 
for  the  profession  of  arms,  had  clothed  him  in  armor,  had 
girded  him  with  his  sword,  and  had  mounted  him  on  a 

241 


Medieval  Civilization 

war-horse.  The  chief  had  a  right  to  expect  eternal  grati¬ 
tude  for  the  arms  which  he  had  given,  for  the  presents 
which  he  had  added,  and  for  the  income  which  he  often 
gave  to  the  newly  dubbed  knight. 

The  ceremony  of  bestowing  knighthood  shows  equally 
clearly  the  twofold  character  of  primitive  chivalry.  The 
youth  who  was  armed  as  a  knight  had  to  be  strong, 
skilful  in  the  use  of  his  weapons,  and  an  excellent  horse¬ 
man  ;  he  had  to  exhibit  his  ability  in  public  by  putting  his 
horse  to  a  gallop  and  striking  the  quintain.  That  is  one 
side  of  his  character.  The  second  side  is  that  he  became 
the  godson,  the  adopted  son,  of  the  lord  who  made  him 
a  knight.  That  lord  presided  in  person,  like  a  father, 
when  the  knight  was  armed,  and  attached  to  his  side  the 
principal  weapon,  the  sword.  The  lord  had  him  furnished 
with  clothing  befitting  his  new  station,  a  mantle  of  silk 
and  rich  furs.  By  the  arms  which  he  received  the  new 
knight  was  associated  with  the  military  fortunes  of  his 
adopted  father ;  through  the  precious  stuffs  and  furs  with 
which  he  was  clothed  he  took  his  position*  in  the  feudal 
court. 

The  exhortations  addressed  to  the  knight  also  had  a 
double  object.  Be  brave,  was  one;  be  faithful,  was  the 
other.  Be  preux  summed  up  the  whole. 

The  colee,  or  blow  on  the  nape  of  the  neck  with  the 
palm  of  the  hand,  also  had  a  double  significance,  which 
was  a  survival  of  an  old  German  custom.  It  was  intended 
to  fix  in  the  memory,  in  such  a  manner  that  they  could 
not  be  forgotten,  both  the  ceremony  and  the  knight  who 
performed  it.  It  had  to  be  energetic  to  accomplish  its 
purpose,  and  its  energy  bore  witness  both  to  the  moral 


242 


Chivalry- 

endurance  of  the  new  knight  and  to  the  strength  of  his 
body. 

Such  was  the  chivalry  of  the  tenth  and  eleventh  cen¬ 
turies.  As  yet  it  was  not  a  distinct  institution,  and  it  had 
none  of  the  generous  sentiments  which  have  been  at¬ 
tributed  to  it  or  practised  by  it  later.  The  duties  of  the 
knight  were  entirely  relative.  They  were  the  duties  of 
a  soldier  and  a  vassal,  and  reciprocally  those  of  a  suze¬ 
rain  also.  Aid  to  the  poor  extended  only  to  knights  with¬ 
out  fortune  or  vassals  who  were  in  distress. 

In  fact,  according  to  the  testimony  of  both  the  legal 
documents  and  the  poems,  the  knights  were  far  from 
being  defenders  of  women  and  the  helpless ;  they  were, 
on  the  contrary,  their  oppressors,  despots,  or  executioners. 
The  primitive  types  of  Raoul  de  Cambrai  and  Ogier 
depict  knights  and  redskins,  lions  and  tigers.  In  their 
savage  outbursts  of  anger  or  their  cold  ferocity  nothing 
restrained  them ;  regard  for  weakness  and  religious  fear 
had  no  influence.  They  killed  unarmed  men  without 
mercy ;  they  burned  nuns  in  their  convent.  The  only  sen¬ 
timents  praised  in  the  great  epopee  of  the  eleventh  cen¬ 
tury,  the  sublime  Song  of  Roland,  are  bravery,  family 
honor,  and  fidelity  to  God,  to  the  feudal  lord,  to  the  asso¬ 
ciate,  and  to  the  native  land. 

The  feeble  had  no  rights  in  the  presence  of  the  strong.  . 
Women  were  fought  over,  and  carried  off  as  the  legiti¬ 
mate  prey  of  the  stronger.  A  knight  defended  them  only 
to  possess  them.  They  knew  it  and  were  resigned.  A 
young  girl  delivered  by  Ogier  from  the  hands  of  the 
Saracens  immediately  said  to  him:  “You  have  rescued 
me :  I  am  at  your  command.  Do  with  me  whatever  you 

243 


Medieval  Civilization 


please.”  A  knight  protected  a  merchant,  pilgrim,  peas¬ 
ant,  or  citizen  only  when  he  was  paid  for  the  protection. 

Chivalry  at  that  time  was  not,  properly  speaking,  an 
order  of  which  the  knights  were  members,  and  with  rules 
and  statutes  which  they  followed.  No  one  was  a  knight 
unless  he  was  the  knight  of  some  lord  who  had  given  him 
the  colee,  or  to  whom  he  had  afterward  pledged  his  ser¬ 
vices. 

From  what  source  did  the  chivalry  of  the  later  centuries 
spring?  Was  it  a  foreign  importation  from  the  Saracens 
or  Scandinavians?  Was  it  due  to  the  infiltration  of  Celtic 
or  Breton  customs?  I  do  not  think  so.  Thanks  to  the 
social  transformations  which  were  going  on,  it  developed 
gradually  under  the  double  aspect  which  has  been  at¬ 
tributed  to  it. 

The  brutal  and  violent  warrior,  who  always  went 
armed,  valued  bravery  in  others  as  he  gloried  in  his  own. 
Thence  sprang  some  laws  of  war,  such  as  generosity  and 
loyalty  among  opponents.  When  a  knight  was  also  a 
feudal  lord  and  had  associates  of  all  ranks  under  his  com¬ 
mand,  he  had  to  protect  and  defend  them,  under  penalty 
of  being  abandoned  by  them  and  scorned  by  his  peers  as 
a  coward.  This  duty  was  a  point  of  honor.  In  time  this 
point  of  honor  grew  by  reason  of  their  great  boastful-  / 
ness,  which  the  heroes  of  the  old  chansons  exhibited  in 
rodomontades,  and  in  bold  and  rash  undertakings. 
Any  wrong  done  to  a  protege  was  an  outrage  to  the 
protector.  When  a  knight  made  himself  the  champion 
of  all  the  feeble,  he  gave  the  most  striking  proof  that 
he  feared  no  rival,  because  he  was  under  the  neces¬ 
sity  of  fighting  at  any  moment  against  all  comers. 

244 


Chivalry 

Magnanimity  might  thus  arise  from  the  intoxication 
of  pride,  and  from  the  exuberance  of  strength  and 
individuality. 

The  fidelity  owed  to  the  lord  and  the  duties  to  be  per¬ 
formed  about  his  person  aided  especially  in  the  birth  of 
a  chivalric  ideal.  Devotion,  self-abnegation,  and  loyalty 
rose  from  vassalage  by  a  gradual  broadening  of  ideas.  A 
certain  sociability  and  a  certain  delicacy  in  sentiment,  in 
short  courtesy,  rose  from  the  periodical  residence  at  the 
court  of  the  lord.  It  became  the  ambition  of  even  the 
roughest  warrior  to  merit  the  approbation  of  the  women 
who  formed  the  charm  of  this  court.  He  was  also  ambi¬ 
tious  to  merit  the  praises  of  the  trouveres  who  were  fa¬ 
miliar  guests  at  banquets,  or  at  least  to  escape  from  their 
biting  satire. 

Warlike  songs  and  verses  have  been  recited  at  banquets 
from  time  immemorial ;  the  chansons  dc  gestes  date  from 
the  ninth  century  at  the  latest,  and  their  success  increased 
constantly  during  the  next  three  centuries.  The  trou¬ 
veres  were  the  real  dispensers  of  glory.  The  name  which 
they  celebrated  lived  in  the  memory  of  men,  the  name 
which  they  branded  was  consigned  to  eternal  opprobrium. 
A  poetic  ideal  was  created,  and  from  poetry  it  descended 
into  every-day  life.  Undoubtedly,  it  was  ideal  in  com¬ 
parison  with  the  ferocious  manners ;  but  it  was  also  in 
advance  of  them,  assigning  to  combat  more  noble  mo¬ 
tives  than  self-interest,  booty,  or  the  satisfaction  of  sen¬ 
sual  and  bloody  passions.  The  cult  of  honor  and  in¬ 
violable  fidelity  to  family,  companion,  lord,  king,  country, 
and  God,  protection  for  women,  the  weak,  and  the  humble, 
liberality,  and  exact  justice  were  the  qualities  celebrated 

245 


Medieval  Civilization 


by  trouveres  and  became  the  goal  of  all  who  were  am¬ 
bitious  for  public  praise. 

The  profound  influence  of  German  and  Norman  tra¬ 
ditions  must  have  been  exercised  in  this  way;  perchance 
even  the  Celtic  traditions,  embodied  in  ancient  songs  that 
each  generation  adapted  to  its  own  environment,  had 
some  influence ;  the  Arabs,  too,  may  have  had  some  ef¬ 
fect  upon  the  development  of  chivalry,  even  before  the 
time  of  the  crusades.  The  relations  between  the  Franks 
and  the  Saracens  were  constant.  Saracen  invasions  in 
the  South  were  extended  and  prolonged,  and  a  great  num¬ 
ber  of  Franks  were  held  as  prisoners  in  Spain  for  inter¬ 
minable  years.  Consequently  the  old  Arabic  songs  con¬ 
tributed  their  influence,  for  they  corresponded  closely  to 
the  most  striking  features  of  the  feudal  society ;  they 
glorified  independence  and  personal  courage,  respect  for 
the  sworn  faith,  the  knight  and  his  horse,  the  lance  and 
the  sword.  A  breath  of  the  generosity  of  the  free  children 
of  the  Arab  desert  must  have  been  infused  into  the  poetic 
ideal  of  the  French  trouveres. 

The  elevation  and  purification  of  manners  and  senti¬ 
ments  by  heroic  poetry  were,  however,  not  at  all  perfect. 
They  could  not  transform  chivalry  into  an  institution. 
More  was  needed,  especially  the  great  religious  impulse 
which  made  warriors  into  “  knights  of  God,”  which 
brought  about,  in  the  happy  phrase  of  a  brilliant  scholar, 
the  formation  of  the  “  Christian  mode  ”  of  chivalry. 
Above  all,  it  was  essential  that  chivalry  should  be  de¬ 
tached  from  feudalism.  This  separation  was  accom¬ 
plished  when  the  clan  organization  passed  into  the  organi¬ 
zation  based  upon  land.  Then  the  dubbing  was  no  longer 

246 


Chivalry- 

adoption  and  entrance  into  the  closest  bonds  of  vassalage. 
It  became  merely  an  honorary  adoption  by  a  godfather. 
It  continued  to  produce  an  esprit  de  corps,  a  spirit  of 
fraternity.  The  military  orders  did  not  create  the  esprit 
de  corps  and  feeling  of  solidarity ;  they  merely  strength¬ 
ened  it.  A  man  was  a  knight  before  entering  an  order. 
They  solidified  one  of  the  historical  foundations  of  chiv¬ 
alry  and  infused  new  blood  into  an  ancient  institution. 


247 


Character  and  Results  of  the 
Crusades 

Adapted  from  C.  Seignobos,  in  Lavisse  et  Rambaud:  Histoire 
Generate,  Vol.  II,  1893,  pp.  342-348. 

HE  crusades  were  expeditions  of  Christians  organ- 


X  ized  by  the  pope,  the  common  chief  of  the  Catholics. 
Every  crusader  was  an  armed  pilgrim  to  whom  the 
Church,  in  consideration  of  his  pilgrimage,  remitted  the 
penance  which  he  owed.  The  pilgrims  came  together  in 
great  crowds,  gathering  around  a  king,  a  powerful  lord,  or 
a  papal  legate— but  they  were  under  no  discipline ;  they 
were  free  to  go  to  another  troop,  or  even  to  abandon  the 
expedition  when  they  believed  that  their  vow  had  been 
accomplished.  An  army  of  crusaders  was  nothing  more 
than  a  union  of  bands  following  the  same  road.  They 
marched  slowly  and  without  any  order,  mounted  upon 
great  horses,  and  encumbered  with  baggage,  servants, 
and  camp-followers.  They  were  obliged  to  put  on  heavy 
coats  of  mail  when  they  fought. 

They  lost  months  in  crossing  the  Byzantine  Empire 
and  in  fighting  Turkish  horsemen  in  Asia  Minor.  In  the 
deserts,  where  there  was  no  water  and  where  no  provi¬ 
sions  could  be  found,  men  and  horses  died  of  hunger, 
thirst,  and  fatigue.  In  the  camps  where  the  crusaders 


248 


Character  of  the  Crusades 


stopped,  lack  of  care,  privations,  and  starvation  alter¬ 
nated  with  excessive  eating  and  drinking,  and  caused 
epidemics  which  carried  them  off  by  thousands.  Very 
few  of  those  who  set  out  got  as  far  as  Syria.  Especially 
in  the  twelfth  century,  there  was  a  frightful  waste  of 
men  on  the  road  to  the  Holy  Land.  At  last  the  cru¬ 
saders  gave  up  this  dangerous  land  pilgrimage.  In  the 
thirteenth  century  they  went  by  sea.  Italian  vessels  car¬ 
ried  them  and  their  horses  in  a  few  months  to  the  Holy 
Land,  where  the  real  war  was  fought.  This  change  in 
route  modified  profoundly  the  character  of  the  crusades. 

In  the  combats  against  the  Mussulmans,  when  the 
numbers  were  equal,  the  knights  were  ordinarily  suc¬ 
cessful.  With  their  great  horses  and  impenetrable  armor, 
they  formed  compact  battalions  that  the  Saracens, 
mounted  upon  small  horses,  could  not  break  with  their 
arrows  and  sabers.  It  is  true  that  their  victories  had 
scarcely  any  lasting  results.  The  crusaders  returned  to 
Europe,  leaving  the  field  free  to  the  Mussulmans. 

These  intermittent  armies  might  have  conquered  the 
Holy  Land,  but  they  would  not  have  been  sufficient  to 
hold  it.  But,  in  addition  to  the  crusaders  who  came 
for  their  souls’  salvation,  there  were  knights  who  came 
to  conquer  the  land,  and  merchants  who  came  to  make 
their  fortunes — and  these  held  the  country.  They  won  all 
the  victories  for  the  crusaders  by  utilizing  the  sporadic 
forces  which  the  masses  of  pilgrims  furnished.  They 
directed  the  operations,  they  constructed  the  siege  ma¬ 
chines,  they  took  the  cities  and  fortified  them  against 
the  enemy’s  return.  The  crusaders  were  unable  to  carry 
on  war  in  distant  countries  when  compelled  to  depend 

249 


Medieval  Civilization 


upon  their  own  strength.  All  the  pompous  expeditions 
led  by  sovereigns  failed  wretchedly.  The  only  crusades 
which  were  at  all  successful  were  the  first,  which  con¬ 
quered  Syria,  and  the  fourth,  which  conquered  the  Greek 
Empire;  and  these  were  directed  by  the  Normans  of  Italy, 
and  by  the  Venetians.  The  enthusiasm  and  bravery  of 
the  crusaders  were  a  blind  force,  which  needed  to  be 
directed  by  men  of  experience.  The  crusaders  proper 
were  only  the  tools.  The  true  founders  of  the  Chris¬ 
tian  kingdoms  were  the  adventurers  and  the  merchants, 
who,  like  modern  emigrants,  set  out  to  establish  them¬ 
selves  in  the  Orient. 

These  emigrants  were  never  numerous  enough  to  peo¬ 
ple  the  country;  they  only  camped  in  the  midst  of  the 
native  populations.  The  Frankish  principalities  always 
consisted  of  an  aristocracy  made  up  of  a  few  thousand 
French  knights  and  Italian  merchants.  It  was  impossi¬ 
ble  that  they  should  have  the  solidity  of  the  European 
States  of  the  Occident,  which  rested  upon  nations.  They 
resembled  those  States  founded  by  the  chiefs  of  Arabic 
or  Turkish  warriors,  where  the  subject  population  was 
indifferent  as  to  its  ruler,  and  where  the  State  was  the 
army  and  perished  with  it.  These  principalities  lasted 
nearly  two  centuries — a  long  time  for  Oriental  States. 
Only  an  extensive  emigration  would  have  sufficed  to 
maintain  them  in  the  face  of  the  Mussulmans  and  Byzan¬ 
tines  of  Asia.  Europe  in  the  Middle  Ages  could  not 
furnish  such  an  emigration. 

For  half  a  century  the  Christian  States  had  only  to 
contend  against  the  little  princes  of  Syria  and  the  atabek 
of  Mosul.  The  Mussulmans  of  Egypt  were  at  peace 

250 


Character  of  the  Crusades 


with  them.  This  half-century  was  their  period  of  pros¬ 
perity.  But  when  the  califate  of  Cairo,  destroyed  by 
Saladin,  had  been  replaced  by  the  military  State  of  the 
Mamelukes,  the  Christians  were  attacked  from  Egypt 
and  could  not  resist  any  longer ;  the  victories  of  Saladin 
are  a  sufficient  proof  of  this.  For  another  century  they 
kept  the  remnants  of  their  States,  but  it  was  because  the 
sultans  were  not  anxious  to  destroy  them.  Undoubtedly, 
the  war  was,  for  the  Mussulmans  as  for  the  Christians, 
a  holy  war,  but  it  was  not  continuous ;  it  was  interrupted 
by  frequent  truces,  some  of  which  lasted  several  years. 
We  must  not  think  that  all  the  Christian  princes  were 
united  against  all  the  Mussulman  princes.  Political 
interests  were  ordinarily  stronger  than  religious  hatred. 
Christians  constantly  fought  against  Christians,  and  Mus¬ 
sulmans  against  Mussulmans.  Often  a  Christian  prince 
made  an  alliance  with  a  Mussulman  prince  against 
another  Christian  prince. 

There  never  was  complete  harmony  in  the  camp  of 
the  Christians.  The  religious  enthusiasm  which  united 
them  did  not  destroy  their  commercial  rivalry  or  their 
race  hatred.  There  were  continual  disputes  among  the 
princes  of  France,  Germany,  and  England,  between  the 
merchants  of  Genoa  and  Venice,  and  between  the  Tem¬ 
plars  and  the  Hospitalers.  More  than  once  they  came 
to  blows.  In  1256  the  Venetians  fought  the  Genoese 
over  a  convent  built  upon  the  hill  which  separated  their 
two  quarters  in  Acre.  The  Hospitalers,  the  Catalans, 
and  the  men  of  Ancona  and  Pisa  sided  with  Genoa ; 
the  Templars,  the  Teutonic  knights,  the  Provencals, 
the  patriarch  of  Jerusalem,  and  the  king  of  Cyprus 

251 


Medieval  Civilization 


sided  with  Venice.  The  Genoese  destroyed  the  Pisans’ 
tower;  the  Venetians  burned  the  Genoese  ships,  and 
took  their  quarter  by  storm.  This  war  lasted  for  two 
years. 

There  was  the  same  lack  of  unity  between  the  crusa¬ 
ders  who  came  from  Europe  and  the  Franks  who  were 
settled  in  Syria.  Living  in  the  midst  of  the  Orientals, 
the  Franks  had  adopted  many  of  their  customs,  such  as 
the  use  of  the  bath  and  flowing  garments.  They  had 
organized  a  light  cavalry,  armed  in  Turkish  fashion. 
They  had  taken  Mussulman  soldiers  (Tur copoles)  into 
their  service.  They  were  inclined  to  treat  the  Mussul¬ 
man  princes  as  neighbors,  and  not  to  make  war  on  them 
without  cause.  The  knights  from  the  West,  who  ar¬ 
rived  in  the  East  full  of  hatred  for  the  infidels,  wanted 
to  exterminate  them  all,  and  were  indignant  at  this  toler¬ 
ance.  As  soon  as  they  landed,  they  rushed  upon  the 
Mussulman  territory,  in  haste  to  fight  and  to  pillage,— 
often  without  listening  to  the  advice  of  the  Christians 
who  lived  in  the  country,  and  who  were  more  experi¬ 
enced  in  Eastern  warfare.  Western  writers  of  the  Mid¬ 
dle  Ages  consider  the  Christians  of  the  Holy  Land 
treacherous  and  corrupt,  and  blame  them  for  the  ruin 
of  the  States  in  Syria.  How  much  truth  is  there  in 
these  accusations?  Undoubtedly,  those  Frankish  adven¬ 
turers  who  had  quickly  grown  wealthy  and  lived  in  lux¬ 
ury  in  contact  with  vicious  populations  must  have  adopted 
many  of  their  vices,  especially  those  who  were  born  in 
Syria  (these  were  called  Pullani).  But  the  European 
crusaders  were  not  in  the  right  position  to  judge  them. 
They  caused  more  disasters  by  their  imprudence  and 

252 


Results  of  the  Crusades 


their  lack  of  discipline  than  the  Christians  in  Syria  by 
their  weakness. 

The  direct  result  of  the  crusades,  without  speaking 
of  the  millions  of  men  who  perished  in  them,  was  the 
creation  in  the  Orient  of  new  Catholic  States,  occupied 
by  Frankish  knights  and  Italian  merchants.  These  were 
founded  at  the  expense  of  the  Mussulmans  and  of  the 
Byzantines.  After  a  time,  the  European  settlers,  who 
were  always  few  in  number,  were  expelled  without  leav¬ 
ing  behind  them  any  other  traces  than  the  ruins  of  their 
castles,  built  in  the  seaports  and  upon  the  rocks  of  Greece 
and  Syria;  but,  during  the  two  centuries  of  their  rule, 
they  maintained  regular  relations  between  the  Christians 
in  Europe  and  the  Oriental  peoples. 

In  order  to  carry  pilgrims  to  the  Holy  Land,  the  Medi¬ 
terranean  cities  organized  a  transport  service.  The 
horses,  which  the  knights  always  carried  with  them, 
were  loaded  upon  transports  whose  hulls  opened  by 
doors  upon  the  side.  For  protection  against  pirates,  they 
used  armed  ships,  and  the  vessels  voyaged  in  fleets. 
There  were  two  regular  times  for  the  journey :  one  in 
the  spring  (the  great  passage)  for  pilgrims  who  went 
to  the  Easter  festival,  the  other  in  summer.  The  trans¬ 
portation  of  pilgrims  was  a  profitable  business,  and  the 
powerful  States,  accordingly,  kept  it  for  themselves. 
Travelers  could  set  out  from  only  a  few  ports — Venice, 
Pisa,  and  Genoa  in  Italy,  and  Marseilles  in  France.  The 
Templars  obtained  the  privilege  of  sending  a  vessel  in 
each  fleet. 

By  land  or  sea,  the  European  Christians  went  by  millions 
to  the  Orient.  The  crusades  were  a  sort  of  educational 


253 


Medieval  Civilization 


trip  for  them.  They  set  out  from  their  castles  or  villages 
without  having  seen  anything;  they  were  more  ignorant 
than  the  peasants  of  to-day.  They  suddenly  found  them¬ 
selves  in  great  cities,  in  the  midst  of  new  countries,  and 
in  the  presence  of  unknown  customs.  All  that  set  them 
to  thinking  and  gave  them  new  ideas.  They  got  ac¬ 
quainted  with  the  Oriental  peoples ;  they  carried  back 
some  of  their  industries  and  some  of  their  customs. 

Thus  they  obtained  a  more  correct  idea  of  the  Mussul¬ 
mans.  The  first  crusaders  believed  that  the  latter  were 
savages  and  idolaters ;  they  took  Mohammed  for  an  idol 
— later  they  regarded  him  as  a  heretic.  In  the  thirteenth 
century,  the  Christians  knew  at  last  what  Islam  really 
was,  and  recognized  that  the  Mussulmans  were  more 
civilized  than  they  were  themselves. 

It  is  very  difficult,  however,  to  know  exactly  what 
Europe  owes  to  the  crusades.  The  Christians  of  the 
West,  during  the  Middle  Ages,  borrowed  from  the  Arabs 
and  the  Byzantines  very  many  inventions  and  customs. 
It  is  natural  to  think,  as  soon  as  an  Oriental  usage  is 
found  in  Europe,  that  it  was  brought  in  by  the  crusa¬ 
ders  ;  but  the  crusades  were  not  the  only  means  that  the 
Christians  had  of  knowing  the  other  civilizations.  The 
Oriental  civilization  was  established  on  the  whole  north¬ 
ern  coast  of  Africa  and  in  the  south  of  Spain.  The  Chris¬ 
tians  entered  into  regular  commerce  with  the  Mussul¬ 
mans  of  Egypt,  Tunis,  and  Spain,  and  with  the  orthodox 
Christians  at  Constantinople.  It  is  easy  to  tell  in  gen¬ 
eral  what  the  Christians  borrowed  from  the  East ;  but  it 
is  difficult  to  say  in  the  case  of  any  object  or  custom 
whether  it  came  by  way  of  Spain,  Sicily,  or  the  Byzan- 

254 


Results  of  the  Crusades 


tine  Empire,  or  through  the  crusades.  If  we  attribute 
to  the  crusades  all  the  Oriental  customs  introduced  into 
Europe  during  the  Middle  Ages,  we  exaggerate  their 
influence,  and  confuse  under  one  name  all  the  relations 
between  the  Christians  and  the  Mussulmans. 

It  is  undoubtedly  true  that  Europe,  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  learned  a  great  deal  from  the  Orientals ;  but  it  is 
impossible  to  determine  the  exact  share  of  the  crusades 
in  this  educational  work.  All  that  one  may  rightly  at¬ 
tribute  to  them  with  exactitude  is  the  customs  which 
came  directly  from  Syria :  some  military  implements,  as 
the  crossbow,  the  drum,  the  trumpet,  and  the  lance 
adorned  with  streamers ;  some  plants,  as  sesame,  apri¬ 
cot  (in  Italian,  damasco),  garlic  ( echalote ,  from  Asca- 
lon),  and  watermelon.  In  the  Orient  the  Christians, 
who  up  to  that  time  had  shaved,  commenced  to  wear 
beards.  It  is  also  probable  that  the  use  of  windmills 
came  from  Syria. 

In  order  to  distinguish  one  warrior  from  another  in 
the  enormous  crowd,  the  knights  needed  distinctive 
marks.  They  already  had  a  habit  of  painting  some  orna¬ 
ment  upon  their  shields.  During  the  crusades,  the  orna¬ 
ment  became  the  badge  of  a  family,  and  from  that  time 
remained  unchanged.  Thus  the  system  of  coats  of  arms 
grew  up— which  was  later  called  blazonry.  It  arose  in 
the  East,  as  is  proved  by  the  Oriental  names  used  in  it : 
gules  (red)  is  an  Arabian  word  from  gul  (rose)  ; 
azure  (blue),  a  Persian  word;  sinople  (green),  a  Greek 
word;  the  gold  pieces  are  called  bezants  (pieces  of  By¬ 
zantine  gold)  ;  the  cross  in  blazonry  is  a  Greek  cross. 

Many  other  results  have  been  attributed  to  the  cru- 
255 


Medieval  Civilization 


sades :  the  enfranchisement  of  the  serfs,  the  increase  of 
royal  power,  the  transformation  of  the  feudal  regime, 
the  development  of  epic  poetry,  the  wealth  of  Italy- 
even  the  enfeeblement  of  the  spirit  of  devotion  and  the 
decline  in  the  power  of  the  pope ;  in  short,  almost  all 
the  changes  which  took  place  in  the  nations  of  the 
West  from  the  eleventh  to  the  thirteenth  century.  The 
crusades  undoubtedly  had  a  general  effect  upon  the 
Christian  societies ;  but  for  all  these  effects  there  were 
more  active  and  more  positive  causes  in  the  people  of 
the  West. 


256 


Ibn  Jubair’s  Account  of  his  Journey 
through  Syria 

Adapted  from  the  text  in  the  Recueil  des  historiens  des  croi- 
sades:  historiens  orientaux,  Vol.  Ill,  1884,  pp.  443-456. 

IBN  JUBAIR  was  born  at  Valencia,  in  Spain,  in  the 
year  540  of  the  Hegira  (1145-1146  a.d.).  He  re¬ 
ceived  an  excellent  education,  and  was,  for  a  time,  in  the 
service  of  one  of  the  Almohade  princes  of  Granada.  In 
1183  he  set  out  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca.  The  descrip¬ 
tion  printed  below  is  taken  from  his  account  of  a  por¬ 
tion  of  this  pilgrimage.  As  he  was  in  Syria  in  1184, 
only  three  years  before  the  capture  of  Jerusalem  by  Sala- 
din,  his  statements  possess  a  peculiar  value.  He  observed 
the  country  and  the  people  very  carefully,  and  recorded 
his  opinions  impartially.  The  facts  which  he  recounts 
throw  a  flood  of  light  upon  the  conditions  in  Syria  under 
the  Frankish  rule.  It  is  wisest  to  allow  him  to  tell  his 
own  story  in  his  own  words,  and  not  to  divert  the  reader’s 
attention  by  any  comments. 

“  We  were  at  Damascus,  and  ready  to  set  out  for  Acre. 
May  Allah  deliver  this  city  into  our  hands !  It  was  the 
time  of  the  new  moon  and  the  beginning  of  the  month 
of  Djomada  second,  or  Sunday,  the  ninth  day  of  the 
month  which  the  Christians  call  September.  We  were 

257 


Medieval  Civilization 

planning  to  embark,  with  some  Christian  merchants,  on 
vessels  built  for  sailing  in  autumn,  and  named  by  them 
salibiya.1  We  did  set  out  on  Thursday  evening,  the 
fifth  of  this  month  ( Djomada  second),  with  a  crowd  of 
merchants  who  were  going  to  Acre  with  their  merchan¬ 
dise.  We  passed  the  night  at  Dariya,  a  village  which 
was  a  parasang  and  a  half  from  Damascus,  and  we  set 
out  again  on  Friday  morning  at  daybreak  for  another 
place  surrounded  by  hills  and  named  Beit  Djann.  Satur¬ 
day  morning  we  set  out  for  Paneas.  When  we  had  gone 
half  the  way,  we  came  to  an  oak  with  an  enormous  trunk 
and  large  branches,  which  they  told  us  was  called  “  the 
tree  of  the  balance.”  In  response  to  our  questions,  they 
said  that  the  name  was  given  because  the  tree  marked  on 
this  road  the  boundary  between  security  and  the  danger 
of  attack  by  Frankish  brigands,  i.  e.,  either  scouts  or  high¬ 
waymen.  They  seize  as  prisoners  all  whom  they  find 
beyond  this  tree  on  the  Mussulman  side,  even  if  it  is 
only  by  a  span’s  distance ;  on  the  contrary,  whosoever  is 
beyond  the  tree  on  the  Frankish  side  by  the  same  dis¬ 
tance  can  continue  his  journey  in  freedom.  This  regula¬ 
tion,  which  had  been  agreed  upon,  was  observed  strictly. 
At  that  point  is  situated  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
watch-towers  that  the  Franks  have  set  upon  their  fron¬ 
tiers. 

“This  city  of  Paneas — may  Allah  protect  it!— is  the 
frontier  town  of  the  Mussulman  territory.  It  is  small, 
but  has  a  castle  surrounded  by  a  stream  which  flows  under 
the  walls  and  runs  toward  one  of  the  gates  of  the  city. 
It  is  used  to  turn  several  mills.  Noureddin  reconquered 
1  That  is,  vessels  with  square  sails. 

258 


Journey  through  Syria 

this  place  from  the  Franks.  In  the  neighboring  plain 
there  is  a  vast  extent  of  cultivated  land,  dominated  by 
a  fort  belonging  to  the  Franks  and  named  Honein.  This 
is  three  parasangs  from  Paneas.  The  district  formed  by 
this  plain  is  shared  equally  by  the  Franks  and  the  Mus¬ 
sulmans,—!.  e.,  the  two  peoples  divide  into  equal  shares 
the  crops  which  grow  in  it,  and  the  herds  of  the  two 
peoples  pasture  together  without  any  wrong  being  done 
by  either  party. 

“  The  same  Saturday  evening  we  set  out  for  the  village 
of  Meciya,  near  the  Frankish  fort  of  which  we  have  just 
spoken,  and  we  passed  the  night  there.  Sunday,  at  dawn, 
we  again  proceeded  on  the  road  from  Honein  to  Tibnin 
[Toron],  through  a  valley  full  of  trees  which  were  mostly 
laurels.  This  valley  is  of  great  depth,  and  resembles  a 
vast  trench  or  fissure  in  the  mountains,  above  which  the 
summits  meet.  The  highest  portion  reaches  to  the  sky.  It 
is  called  Al-Astil.  It  contains  retreats,  where  armed  men 
can  enter  and  conceal  themselves.  Any  one  who  goes  in 
has  no  chance  of  escape  from  an  enemy  who  is  seeking 
him.1  At  the  entrance  and  the  exit  there  are  rapid  de¬ 
scents,  and  we  were  astounded  when  we  saw  these 
places.  Soon  after  we  had  passed  them,  we  reached  Tib¬ 
nin,  a  large  and  strong  castle  belonging  to  the  Franks, 
where  they  collect  the  tolls  from  the  caravans.  It  be¬ 
longs  to  a  sow  [princess]  known  as  the  queen,  and 
mother  of  this  hog  [king]  of  Acre — may  Allah  destroy 
him!  We  passed  the  night  at  the  foot  of  this  castle,  and 
our  company  had  to  pay  an  impost  which  is  not  exces- 

1  Probably  this  is  a  mistake  in  the  manuscript  and  the  author 
meant  to  say  just  the  opposite. 

259 


Medieval  Civilization 


sive,  viz.,  a  dinar  and  a  kirat  in  Syrian  [Tyrian]  dinars 
per  head.  Merchants  do  not  have  to  pay  it  when  they 
go  to  the  city  which  the  Christian  prince  inhabits,  where 
a  tax  is  exacted  on  the  merchandise.  This  tax  amounts 
to  a  kirat  per  dinar,  and  twenty-four  kirats  make  a  dinar. 
It  is  mainly  Western  Mussulmans  who  pay  it;  the  other 
inhabitants  of  the  Mussulman  countries  are  usually 
exempt.  It  originated  in  a  circumstance  which  brought 
down  the  anger  of  the  Franks  upon  the  former.  In  the 
time  of  the  late  Noureddin,  a  band  of  brave  Maghrebins 
participated  with  this  prince  in  an  expedition  which 
resulted  in  the  capture  of  a  strong  castle  held  by  the 
enemy,  and  in  which  the  Maghrebins  rendered  great  ser¬ 
vice.  In  retaliation  for  this  act  of  hostility,  the  tax  of 
a  dinar,  of  which  we  have  just  spoken,  was  placed  upon 
the  Mussulmans  from  the  West  who  travel  in  the  coun¬ 
try;  for,  said  the  Franks,  these  Westerners  ‘were  fre¬ 
quenting  our  land,  and  we  respected  their  persons  and 
their  property ;  but  then,  when  they  turned  against  us 
and  made  an  alliance  with  their  Mussulman  brothers 
(of  this  country),  it  was  certainly  necessary  to  punish 
them  by  this  tax.’  For  the  Maghrebins  it  is  only  a 
glorious  souvenir  of  the  loss  which  they  caused  the  enemy 
— a  souvenir  which  ought  to  make  the  payment  easy,  and 
to  solace  their  regret  for  being  subject  to  it. 

“  We  left  Tibnin  early  Monday  morning  by  a  road 
which  passed  a  continuous  row  of  farms,  wholly  inhabited 
by  Mussulmans,  who  live  in  great  comfort  under  the 
Franks;  may  Allah  preserve  us  from  such  a  temptation! 
The  terms  which  are  imposed  upon  them  are  the  sur¬ 
render  of  half  the  crop  at  the  time  of  harvest,  and  the 

260 


Journey  through  Syria 

payment  of  a  poll-tax  of  one  dinar  and  five  kirats.  The 
Franks  demand  nothing  more,  except  a  light  tax  upon 
the  fruits  ;  but  the  Mussulmans  are  masters  of  their  dwell¬ 
ings,  and  govern  themselves  as  they  wish.  This  is  the 
case  in  all  the  territory  occupied  by  the  Franks  upon  the 
littoral  of  Syria,  that  is,  of  all  the  villages  inhabited  by 
the  Mussulmans.  The  hearts  of  most  Mussulmans  are 
filled  with  the  temptation  of  settling  there,  when  they 
see  the  condition  of  their  brethren  in  the  districts  gov¬ 
erned  by  the  Mussulmans,  because  the  state  of  the  latter 
is  the  reverse  of  comfortable. 

“  One  of  the  misfortunes  which  afflict  Mussulmans  is 
that  they  have  always  reason  for  complaint,  under  their 
own  government,  of  the  injustice  of  their  chiefs,  and 
that  they  have  cause  only  to  praise  the  conduct  of  the 
Franks— and  the  justice  on  which  one  can  always  depend  ; 
but  Allah  is  the  only  refuge  for  any  one  who  complains 
of  this  state  of  affairs. 

“  That  same  Monday  we  stopped  at  a  farmstead  about 
a  parasang  from  Acre.  The  head  man  who  was  in  charge 
was  a  Mussulman.  He  had  been  appointed  by  the  Franks 
to  have  charge  of  the  cultivators.  He  invited  every  one 
in  our  caravan  to  a  great  banquet  in  a  large  room  in  his 
own  house.  He  had  all  kinds  of  dishes  served,  and  did 
honor  to  each  one. 

“  After  having  passed  the  night  there,  we  set  out  on 
Tuesday  morning  and  soon  reached  Acre.  We  were 
taken  to  the  custom-house,  a  caravansary  prepared  to  re¬ 
ceive  caravans.  Before  the  gate  is  a  carpeted  platform, 
on  which  the  Christian  clerks  sit.  They  have  inkstands 
of  ebony  ornamented  with  gold-work.  They  keep  their 

261 


Medieval  Civilization 


accounts  in  Arabic,  and  also  speak  this  language.  Their 
head,  who  is  chief  of  the  customs,  is  called  simply  sahib 
— a  title  derived  from  the  importance  of  his  work ;  for 
the  Christians  employ  this  name  for  all  their  important 
men  who  are  not  in  the  army.  All  the  receipts  belong 
to  the  chief  of  the  custom-house,  who  pays  a  very  large 
sum  to  the  government.  The  merchants  in  our  com¬ 
pany  carried  their  merchandise  thither,  and  installed 
themselves  in  the  upper  story.  The  baggage  of  those 
who  had  no  merchandise  was  examined,  to  make  sure 
that  it  contained  nothing  dutiable,  and  then  they  were 
allowed  to  go  where  they  pleased.  The  examination 
was  made  in  a  quiet  and  courteous  manner,  without  any 
violence  or  overcharge.  We  rented  from  a  Christian 
woman  a  house  which  faced  upon  the  sea,  and  there  we 
stayed. 

“Acre  is  the  most  important  of  the  Frankish  cities  in 
Syria.  It  is  the  port  ‘  for  the  ships,  carrying  their  sails 
aloft  in  the  sea,  like  mountains  ’  (Koran,  sura  lv,  verse 
24).  All  the  vessels  anchor  there,  and  by  its  greatness 
Acre  resembles  Constantinople.  The  ships  and  the 
caravans  resort  thither,  and  it  is  the  meeting-place  for 
Christian  and  Mussulman  merchants  of  all  lands ;  its 
streets  and  lanes  are  full  of  people,  and  there  is  a  con¬ 
tinual  coming  and  going.  But  infidelity  and  arrogance 
are  present  everywhere,  and  the  place  swarms  with  pigs 
and  crosses ;  it  is  dirty  and  smells  vilely,  for  it  is  full  of 
filth  and  garbage.  The  Christians  took  it  from  the  Mus¬ 
sulmans  in  the  first  decade  of  the  sixth  century  (of  the 
Hegira),  and  the  eyes  of  Islam  were  filled  with  tears, 
for  this  was  a  deep  sorrow.  The  mosques  were  then 

262 


Journey  through  Syria 

turned  into  churches,  and  the  minaret  became  a  clock- 
tower.  Allah  permitted  only  one  corner  of  the  principal 
mosque  to  escape  profanation ;  and  this  became,  in  the 
hands  of  the  Mussulmans,  a  little  mosque  where  strangers 
gathered  to  obey  the  obligatory  prescription  of  prayer. 
Near  the  sanctuary  is  the  tomb  of  the  prophet  Saleh,  a 
holy  spot,  by  virtue  of  which  the  divine  favor  has  per¬ 
mitted  this  position  to  escape  from  the  unclean  touch  of 
the  infidel.  In  the  eastern  part  of  the  city  is  the  Spring 
of  the  Ox.  From  this  Allah  caused  the  ox  to  come  forth 
for  Adam.  The  descent  to  the  spring  is  by  polished  steps. 
Near  this  spring  there  was  formerly  a  mosque,  of  which 
the  oratory  has  remained  uninjured.  To  the  east  of  it 
the  Franks  have  constructed  an  oratory  ;  thus,  Mussul¬ 
mans  and  infidels  meet  there — although  it  belongs  to  the 
Christians— and  each  one  says  his  prayers,  facing  in  the 
direction  that  his  faith  prescribes.  It  is  in  this  venerable 
and  sacred  edifice  that  Allah  has  reserved  for  the  Mussul¬ 
mans  a  place  where  they  can  pray. 

“  After  remaining  two  days  at  Acre,  we  set  out  for 
Tyre,  on  Thursday,  the  twelfth  of  Djomada  second 
[September  20].  We  went  by  land,  and  passed  by  a 
great  castle  named  Az-Zib,  which  dominates  the  continu¬ 
ous  villages  and  residences,  and  by  a  walled  town  called 
Iskandarunah.  We  desired  to  obtain  information  about 
a  vessel  which  ought  to  be  at  Tyre  and  was,  as  we  had 
been  told,  about  to  set  out  for  Bugia ;  our  plan  was  to 
embark  upon  it.  We  reached  there  on  Thursday  even¬ 
ing— the  distance  between  the  two  cities  was  about  thirty 
miles— and  we  stopped  in  a  caravansary  planned  to  ac¬ 
commodate  Mussulmans. 


263 


Medieval  Civilization 

“  Tyre  is  a  city  so  strongly  fortified  that  it  is  spoken 
of  proverbially  as  a  city  which  refuses  obedience  or  sub¬ 
mission  to  every  conqueror.  The  Franks  have  planned 
to  make  it  an  asylum  in  case  of  ill  fortune,  and  they  re¬ 
gard  it  as  their  chief  safety.  Its  streets  and  lanes  are 
cleaner  than  those  in  Acre ;  the  infidel  belief  of  its  inhabi¬ 
tants  is  of  a  more  courteous  character,  and  their  habits 
and  feelings  more  generous  toward  foreign  Mussulmans ; 
their  manners  are  more  refined,  their  dwellings  larger 
and  more  comfortable,  and  the  lot  of  the  true  believers 
is  more  quiet  and  peaceful.  But  Acre  is  larger,  and  the 
infidels  are  more  boastful  and  more  numerous.  The 
strength  and  impregnability  of  Tyre  are  of  the  most 
marvelous  character,  and  depend  mainly  upon  the  fact 
that  there  are  only  two  gates.  One  opens  upon  the  main¬ 
land  ;  the  other  upon  the  sea,  by  which  the  city  is  entirely 
surrounded  except  on  one  side.  The  first  of  these  gates 
is  reached  only  after  passing  three  or  four  others,  all  of 
them  surrounded  by  strong  ramparts ;  the  second,  which 
gives  access  to  the  harbor,  is  between  two  fortified  towers. 
The  situation  of  the  harbor  itself  is  different  from  that 
of  any  other  maritime  city ;  the  walls  of  the  city  sur¬ 
round  it  on  three  sides,  and  arches  of  strong  masonry 
form  the  fourth  side,  so  that  it  is  under  the  very  ramparts 
that  vessels  enter  and  go  to  their  anchorage-ground.  A 
strong  chain  is  stretched  between  the  two  towers  of 
which  we  have  just  spoken,  and  then  all  entrance  and 
exit  become  impossible  as  long  as  the  chain  is  there. 
The  gate  itself  is  intrusted  to  guards  and  watchmen, 
under  whose  eyes  all  who  enter  or  depart  from  the  port 
must  necessarily  pass.  All  this  makes  a  marvelous  posi- 

264 


Journey  through  Syria 

tion.  The  harbor  at  Acre,  undoubtedly,  resembles  it ;  it 
is  equally  well  arranged  and  protected,  but  only  vessels 
of  a  small  tonnage  can  enter  it;  large  ships  anchor  in 
the  open  sea.  The  situation  of  the  harbor  at  Tyre  is, 
therefore,  better,  more  inclusive,  and  better  arranged. 

“  Our  stay  in  this  city  lasted  eleven  days ;  we  entered  it 
on  Thursday,  and  we  left  on  Sunday  the  twenty-second 
of  Djomada  second  [September  30].  The  reason  for  our 
delay  was  that  the  vessel  upon  which  we  hoped  to  embark 
seemed  too  small,  and  we  did  not  think  it  prudent  to  risk 
ourselves  upon  it. 

“  One  day,  while  we  were  at  Tyre,  we  had  an  oppor¬ 
tunity  to  see,  near  the  harbor,  one  of  the  most  pompous 
spectacles  imaginable— a  wedding  procession.  All  the 
Christian  men  and  women  present  at  the  fete  were  drawn 
up  in  two  lines  before  the  bride’s  door.  Trumpets,  flutes, 
and  all  kinds  of  musical  instruments  resounded.  They 
awaited  thus  the  bride’s  departure.  She  appeared,  at 
length,  conducted  by  two  men,  who  supported  her  on 
either  side  and  appeared  to  be  her  kinsmen.  She  was 
splendidly  attired,  according  to  their  usual  mode  of  dress¬ 
ing,  and  wore  a  magnificent  silk  robe  embroidered  with 
golden  thread,  whose  long  train  swept  the  ground.  Upon 
her  forehead  rested  a  diadem  of  gold,  covered  with  a  fillet 
of  cloth  of  gold,  and  her  bosom  was  adorned  in  the  same 
manner.  Thus  clad,  she  advanced  trippingly,  with  mea¬ 
sured  steps,  like  a  turtle-dove,  or  like  the  dust  moved  by  a 
gentle  breeze.  May  Allah  preserve  us  from  the  tempta¬ 
tions  which  such  spectacles  excite !  She  was  preceded 
by  Christian  magnates,  and  followed  by  Christian  women, 
who  advanced  mincingly,  with  their  most  beautiful  or- 

265 


Medieval  Civilization 


naments  trailing  behind  them.  The  procession  started, 
the  orchestra  at  the  head,  while  the  simple  spectators, 
Mussulmans  and  Christians,  ranged  themselves  in  two 
rows,  to  be  present  at  the  march.  The  cortege  proceeded 
to  the  house  of  the  bridegroom,  which  the  bride  entered, 
and  the  whole  company  spent  the  day  in  feasting.  Such 
was  the  magnificent  spectacle  at  which  chance  permitted 
me  to  be  present.  May  Allah  preserve  us  from  its  seduc¬ 
tive  influence ! 

“  Having  at  length  returned  by  sea  to  Acre,  where  we 
arrived  on  Monday  morning  the  twenty-third  of  Djomada 
second  [October  i],  we  hired  places  on  board  a  large 
vessel  which  was  setting  sail  for  Messina,  in  the  island 
of  Sicily,  and  we  were  heartily  desirous  that  the  divine 
power  and  grace  might  favor  our  voyage  and  make  it 
easy.  Mussulmans,  in  fact,  have,  in  the  eyes  of  Allah, 
no  excuse  for  going  to  a  city  in  the  land  of  the  infidels 
when  they  have  an  opportunity  to  go  through  a  Mussul¬ 
man  country.  In  the  latter  case,  they  are  free  from  the 
insults  and  dangers  to  which  they  are  exposed  in  the 
the  former,  such  as  slavery,  the  misfortune  of  paying  a 
poll-tax,  and  the  grief  that  troubles  the  heart  of  the 
faithful  when  he  hears  the  curses,  especially  of  the  peo¬ 
ple  of  the  lower  classes,  which  are  heaped  upon  him 
[Mohammed]  whom  Allah  has  exalted.  Infidel  cities 
are  filthy,  and  the  faithful  have  to  go  and  come  in  the 
midst  of  pigs,  and  a  whole  host  of  other  forbidden  things 
which  I  could  never  finish  enumerating.  May  we  be 
preserved  from  entering  the  country  of  the  infidels,  and 
from  being  exposed  to  seeing  Mussulman  prisoners 
marching  in  fetters  and  employed  in  the  most  arduous 

266 


Journey  through  Syria 

labor,  like  slaves !  Mussulman  prisoners  are  even  com¬ 
pelled  to  wear  iron  rings  on  their  legs.  As  I  think  of 
their  lot,  my  heart  breaks ;  but  my  pity  is  of  no  advan¬ 
tage  to  them. 

“  During  our  whole  stay  at  Tyre,  we  found  repose  only 
in  the  mosque  which  has  remained  in  the  hands  of  our 
brethren,  although  there  are  other  mosques. 

“  Among  the  principal  citizens  of  Damascus,  there  were 
two  extremely  wealthy  merchants.  All  their  trade  was 
carried  on  along  the  Frankish  coast,  where  their  names 
were  held  in  high  esteem  and  they  had  agents  under  their 
orders.  Caravans  which  bore  their  merchandise  were 
constantly  going  and  coming ;  they  had  colossal  fortunes, 
as  well  as  great  influence  both  with  the  Mussulman  and 
Frankish  princes.  The  lord  of  Acre,  whom  his  subjects 
call  king,  was  invisible,  concealed  from  every  one,  for 
Allah  had  inflicted  him  with  leprosy.  His  treasurer  had 
charge  of  the  administration  in  his  place ;  he  was  called 
the  count,  and  he  had  the  oversight  of  the  taxation.  All 
the  revenues  are  paid  to  him,  and,  by  his  rank  and  au¬ 
thority,  he  has  power  over  everything.  It  is  this  accursed 
count,  lord  of  Tripoli  and  Tiberias,  who  is  the  most  im¬ 
portant  person  among  the  Franks,  with  whom  he  enjoys 
great  power  and  high  rank ;  he  is  worthy  of  the  throne 
for  which  he  seems  born,  and  his  intelligence  and  cun¬ 
ning  are  remarkable.  For  about  a  dozen  years,  perhaps 
even  longer,  he  was  a  prisoner  of  Noureddin ;  finally,  at 
the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Saladin,  he  bought  his  lib¬ 
erty  for  a  large  ransom.  He  acknowledged  Saladin  as 
his  lord  and  liberator. 

“  In  the  plain  of  Tiberias,  because  of  the  convenience 
267 


Medieval  Civilization 


of  the  road,  there  is  a  great  passing  of  caravans  from 
Damascus,  for  mules  have  to  be  used  only  in  going  by 
the  Tibnin  road,  because  of  its  difficulties. 

“  The  two  cities  of  Acre  and  Tyre  are  not  surrounded 
by  gardens ;  they  are  situated  in  a  vast  plain,  which 
reaches  to  the  sea,  and  the  fruits  which  they  need  are 
obtained  from  the  orchards  in  the  neighborhood.  Each 
city  has  extensive  lands,  and  the  neighboring  hills  are 
covered  with  villages,  which  send  their  fruits  to  these 
two  cities  because  they  are  the  most  important.  To  the 
east  of  Acre,  on  the  side  of  the  mainland,  there  is  a  val¬ 
ley  in  which  a  river  flows,  and  between  the  river  and  the 
sea  there  is  the  most  beautiful  plain  of  fine  sand  that  can 
be  seen  anywhere.  There  is  no  race-course  that  can  be 
compared  with  it.  The  master  of  the  city  goes  there 
every  morning  and  evening,  to  ride  horseback,  and  it  is 
also  the  parade-ground  for  the  troops. 

“  At  Tyre,  near  the  gate  which  opens  upon  the  main¬ 
land,  there  is  a  spring  with  steps  leading  to  it,  and,  in 
addition,  there  are  many  wells  and  cisterns  in  the  city— 
every  house  has  its  own. 

“  On  Saturday  the  twenty-eighth  of  Djomada  second 
[October  6],  after  having  laid  in  a  stock  of  food  and 
water,  we  embarked  upon  our  vessel,  which  was  very 
large.  The  Mussulmans  found  a  place  where  they  would 
not  be  in  contact  with  the  Franks.  Among  the  passen¬ 
gers  there  was  an  innumerable  throng  of  Christian  pil¬ 
grims,  viz.,  pilgrims  to  Jerusalem;  there  must  have  been 
more  than  two  thousand  of  them.  Once  embarked,  trust¬ 
ing  in  the  will  of  Allah,  we  waited  for  a  favorable  wind 
and  for  the  vessel  to  complete  its  cargo.” 

268 


Material  for  Literature  from 
the  Crusades 


Adapted  from  Vaublanc:  La  France  au  temps  des 
croisades,  1844,  Vol.  II,  pp.  182-190. 

THE  stories  of  pilgrimages  and  distant  wars,  carried 
from  castle  to  castle,  filled  the  imagination  of  the 
people  in  the  West  with  thoughts  of  adventurous  and 
inspiring  deeds.  The  epoch  of  the  crusades  was  marked 
by  the  long  absence  and  unexpected  return  of  warriors, 
and  by  the  impostures  of  would-be  nobles.  Fortunate 
was  the  true  master  when,  after  having  told  his  adven¬ 
tures  at  the  gate  of  the  castle,  he  did  not  remain  ignored 
in  his  beggar’s  clothes— when  his  features,  altered  by 
sickness,  wounds,  the  heat  of  the  desert,  and  the  damp 
of  prisons,  were  recognized  by  a  faithful  servant,  and 
the  best  place  by  the  fire  was  at  length  restored  to  its 
legitimate  lord. 

Some  tales,  borrowed  from  the  contemporary  chron¬ 
icles,  may  enable  us  to  picture  in  our  minds  all  the  curi¬ 
ous  and  marvelous  incidents  that  the  wars  in  the  East 
brought  into  the  every-day  life  of  the  people. 

In  1176  a  pilgrim  was  seen  at  Planques,  near  Douai. 
He  wore  a  monk’s  frock  and  a  coat  of  lambskin ;  his 
snow-white  beard  hung  down  to  his  waist,  and  his  white 

269 


Medieval  Civilization 


hairs  covered  his  shoulders.  He  was  overheard  saying 
that  he  had  formerly  possessed  the  city  of  Ardres.  Im¬ 
mediately  the  n’obles  of  that  country  repaired  the  road 
which  leads  from  Douai  to  Planques,  and  built  for  him 
a  little  house.  He  mounted  an  ass  to  beg  for  aid.  Mean¬ 
while,  a  prior  informed  the  count  of  Ardres  that  his  uncle 
had  returned.  The  count  treated  the  information  as 
visionary,  affirmed  that  his  uncle  Baldwin  of  Ardres  had 
been  drowned  on  his  way  to  the  East,  and  said  that  this 
man  who  pretended  to  be  Baldwin  was  imposing  upon 
the  people.  There  were,  however,  some  conferences  be¬ 
tween  the  count  and  the  pilgrim ;  the  latter  received  some 
presents,  and  went  away  immediately.  Shortly  after, 
reliable  information  was  received  of  the  death  of  the  true 
lord  of  Ardres. 

Three  knights  from  the  district  of  Laon,  who  were 
believed  to  have  died  in  Palestine,  reappeared  one  day 
near  the  city  of  their  birth.  They  brought  with  them  a 
beautiful  maiden  from  the  Orient,  and  an  image  of  the 
Virgin.  These  knights,  long  held  as  captives  in  Syria, 
had  refused  during  their  imprisonment  to  abjure  the  faith. 
The  infidel  prince  who  was  persecuting  them  sent  his 
daughter  into  their  prison  to  seduce  them,  but  they  con¬ 
verted  her  by  showing  her  an  image  of  the  Virgin,  which 
they  had  preserved.  Thanks  to  the  cleverness  of  their 
beautiful  proselyte,  and  the  especial  protection  of  the 
Mother  of  our  Lord,  they  were  able  to  escape  from  prison, 
and  to  bear  with  them  the  precious  image.  When,  after 
a  long  voyage,  they  had  reached  the  town  of  Notre 
Dame  de  Liesse,  the  image  suddenly  became  so  heavy  that 
they  had  to  stop.  They  understood  this  manifestation  of 

270 


Stories  from  the  Crusades 


a  superior  will ;  a  church  was  soon  erected  on  the  very 
spot  where  their  steps  had  been  miraculously  checked. 

The  sister  of  Thomas  of  Beverley,  who  lived  and  wrote 
in  France  in  the  thirteenth  century,  put  on  men’s  clothes 
in  order  to  take  part  in  the  holy  war,  passed  through  the 
camp  of  Saladin,  entered  Jerusalem,  and  fought  there  in 
defense  of  the  Christians.  Wounded  by  a  stone  from  a 
siege-machine,  she  was  captured,  fell  ill,  and  was  at 
length  ransomed  and  enabled  to  return  to  France.  Her 
brother  was  weeping  for  her  loss  when  she  suddenly 
stood  before  him.  Both,  filled  with  admiration  for  the 
ways  of  Providence  which  had  brought  them  together 
again  after  such  a  long  separation,  abandoned  the  world 
and  devoted  their  lives  to  God. 

An  event  which  happened  in  Burgundy  about  the  same 
time  perpetuated,  in  the  family  of  Anglure,  a  most  curi¬ 
ous  tradition.  The  Saladins  of  Anglure  are  said  to  have 
been  called  Saint-Cheron  before  a  brave  knight  of  this 
name,  Jean  d’Anglure,  had  gone  to  Palestine  to  fight  the 
sultan  Saladin.  This  Jean  d’Anglure  was  taken  prisoner, 
but  obtained  permission  to  return  to  France  to  seek  his 
ransom.  As  a  pledge  of  his  return,  he  left  with  Saladin 
only  his  knightly  faith ;  the  latter  was  content.  No  one 
knew  him  on  his  return  to  his  native  land.  Worn  out  by 
fatigue,  and  changed  by  suffering,  his  long  beard  and  his 
poor  pilgrim’s  habit  made  him  unrecognizable.  His  wife, 
who  believed  him  dead,  was  that  very  day  celebrating  her 
marriage  with  a  second  husband.  Jean  had  fortunately 
kept  the  half  of  a  broken  ring  of  which  his  wife  pos¬ 
sessed  the  other  fragment.  Upon  the  faith  of  this  irre¬ 
futable  testimony,  his  wife  and  his  manor  were  restored 

271 


Medieval  Civilization 


to  him.  The  day  for  paying  his  ransom  drew  near.  He 
set  out  to  return  to  his  chains,  for  he  had  not  been  able 
to  find  the  promised  sum.  If  we  may  believe  this  roman¬ 
tic  chronicle,  Saladin,  as  generous  as  his  prisoner  was 
loyal,  made  him  a  present  of  his  freedom,  on  condition 
that  the  eldest  son  in  his  family  should  be  called  Saladin, 
and  that  the  coat  of  arms  should  be  bells  supported  by 
crescents. 

Other  crusaders,  who  were  not  expected  to"  return  at 
all,  aroused  general  enthusiasm  when  they  came  back. 
“  When  the  noble  lord  Humbert  de  Beaujeu  returned 
from  ontre-mer,  he  was  received  by  the  people  of  his 
whole  land  with  a  great  outburst  of  joy.  If  I  had  not 
seen  with  my  own  eyes  the  joy  that  his  return  caused,  I 
should  scarcely  have  believed  it.  The  clerks  rejoiced, 
the  monks  were  happy,  the  peasants  applauded,  the 
choirs  of  the  neighboring  churches  resounded  with  a  new 
song.  On  the  other  hand,  the  robbers  were  in  despair, 
and  the  oppressors  groaned.  The  count  of  Macon,  that 
wolf  of  darkness  and  night,  was  already  trembling.” 
Unfortunately,  the  noble  had  entered  the  Order  of  the 
Temple.  He  asked  to  be  released  from  his  vows,  and 
did  not  know  whether  he  ought  to  take  his  wife  again 
or  abandon  her. 

Others,  less  fortunate,  never  returned  to  their  native 
land.  Thus,  the  mystery  about  the  death  of  Baldwin  I, 
count  of  Flanders  and  emperor  of  Constantinople,  was 
never  cleared  up.  The  trouveres  told  how  Baldwin,  con¬ 
quered  by  Johanitsa,  king  of  the  Bulgarians  (1205),  lan¬ 
guished  at  first  in  close  confinement  at  Terra  Nova. 
According  to  their  story,  the  wife  of  the  king  of  the  Bub 

2  72 


Stories  from  the  Crusades 


garians  fell  in  love  with  him,  but  her  love  was  scorned ; 
she,  therefore,  accused  him  to  her  husband.  By  the 
latter’s  order,  the  emperor  was  murdered  at  a  festival, 
and  his  body  was  given  to  the  wild  beasts  for  food. 
Others  add  that  the  mutilated  body,  while  still  living, 
was  abandoned  in  a  deep  valley  to  birds  of  prey;  his 
torture  was  prolonged  for  three  entire  days,  and  nothing 
was  left  but  his  skull — of  which  the  Bulgarians  made  a 
banqueting-cup. 

His  daughter  Jeanne  had  inherited  the  county  of 
Flanders.  She  was  disturbed  (1204)  in  the  enjoyment 
of  her  suzerainty  by  an  event  of  which  the  chronicle  of 
Rheims  gives  a  curious  account : 

“  The  great  nobles,  plotting  treason  against  the  coun¬ 
tess  Jeanne  of  Flanders,  sought  out  an  old  man  and 
placed  him,  in  prisoner’s  garb,  in  the  forest  of  Vicoigne, 
assuring  him  that  they  would  make  him  count  of  Flan¬ 
ders.  They  taught  him  how  to  answer  the  questions 
which  might  be  put  to  him.  When  this  unexpected  return 
was  reported,  a  crowd  went  to  the  forest,  took  the  old 
man  from  the  hermitage  in  which  he  was  living,  clothed 
him  in  a  robe  of  scarlet  lined  with  vair,  and  conducted 
him  on  a  great  war-horse  through  all  the  good  cities  of 
Flanders,  which  paid  all  his  expenses ;  and  all  the  Flem¬ 
ish  held  him  for  their  lord. 

“  He  attempted  to  have  the  countess  seized,  when  she 
was  dining  at  Haisnes  in  Caisnois.  She  had  barely  time 
to  mount  a  pack-horse  and  escape  to  Mons.  She  appealed 
to  the  king,  who  summoned  the  pretender  before  the 
Parliament  of  Peronne  under  a  safe-conduct. 

“  He  came  on  the  appointed  day,  riding  an  ambling 

273 


Medieval  Civilization 


Viorel,  wearing  a  great  scarlet  cape  lined  with  green 
sendal,  and  a  cap  of  bourret.  He  held  a  white  rod  in  his 
hand,  and  looked  wonderfully  like  a  great  nobleman.  A 
large  crowd  of  people  followed  him.  He  dismounted  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairs  leading  to  the  hall,  and  went  up, 
preceded  by  his  ushers,  like  a  great  lord.  His  arrival 
was  announced  to  the  king,  who  came  out  of  his  room 
to  meet  him. 

“  ‘  Sire,  you  are  very  welcome  if  you  are  my  uncle, 
Count  Baldwin,  who  ought  to  be  emperor  of  Constanti¬ 
nople,  king  of  Salonica,  and  count  of  Flanders  and  Hai- 
nault.’ 

“  ‘  Fair  nephew,  may  God  and  His  sweet  Mother  favor 
you!  Truly,  I  am  Baldwin;  and  I  should  be  all  that  you 
say  if  I  had  my  rights.  But  my  daughter  wishes  to  dis¬ 
inherit  me,  and  will  not  recognize  her  own  father.’ 

“  He  besought  the  king  to  aid  him.  The  king  prom¬ 
ised,  and,  to  test  him,  asked  him  in  what  city  he  had  been 
married.1  Not  knowing  what  to  answer,  for  no  one  had 
coached  him  on  this  point,  he  said  that  he  wished  to  go 
to  bed — thinking  to  himself  that  he  would  find  out  the 
answer  from  those  who  were  instructing  him. 

“  He  was  put  to  bed  alone  in  a  room,  and  the  doors 
were  well  guarded.  When  he  got  up — the  same  question. 
He  became  angry,  and  said  that  he  wanted  to  depart. 
The  rascal  left  the  king  at  once  and  went  to  Valenciennes, 
and  at  night  fled  to  Rays  in  Burgundy,  where  he  had  been 
born. 

“  For  six  months  there  was  no  news  of  him.  One 
market-day  a  squire  of  the  lord  of  Courtenay  saw  him 

1  The  king’s  wife  was  Iolande,  sister  of  Jeanne. 

274 


Stories  from  the  Crusades 


at  Courtenay,  and  pointed  him  out  to  his  lord :  ‘  Sire, 
there  is  the  man  who  pretended  to  be  Count  Baldwin !  ’ 
‘  Hold  your  tongue — you  are  lying ;  that  cannot  be !  ’ 
‘  Sire,’  said  the  squire,  ‘  hang  me  by  the  neck  if  it  is  not 
true!’  ‘Well,’  said  the  lord,  ‘take  him,  then;  by  St. 
James,  he  shall  pay  me  well !  ’  The  squire  seized  him, 
put  him  in  prison,  and  found  out  that  it  was  all  true. 
The  countess  was  informed,  and  promised  a  thousand 
marks  of  silver,  and  all  the  property  of  the  impostor, 
if  he  were  delivered  to  her. 

“  As  soon  as  she  saw  him,  the  countess  questioned  him ; 
and  he  confessed  that  his  name  was  Bertrand  de  Rays, 
and  that  he  had  done  as  he  did  at  the  advice  of  knights, 
ladies,  and  clerks,  who  had  taken  him  out  of  the  hermit¬ 
age  where  he  wanted  to  save  his  soul. 

“  ‘  By  my  faith !  ’  said  the  countess,  ‘  you  were  a  fool ; 
you  wanted  to  be  the  sovereign  count,  to  be  sure !  ’  Then 
she  had  him  stripped  and  clothed  in  a  coarse  garment. 
When  they  took  off  his  shoes,  they  found  that  he  had  no 
nails  on  his  feet.  He  was  placed  on  a  stallion  and  led 
past  the  mansions  during  the  fete  at  Lille,  which  was  just 
being  celebrated. 

“  In  front  of  each  mansion  they  cried,  ‘  Hear  this  ras¬ 
cal  ;  listen  to  him !  ’  ‘  I  am,’  he  said,  ‘  Bertrand  from  Rays 
in  Burgundy— a  poor  man,  who  ought  not  to  be  count, 
or  king,  or  duke,  or  emperor ;  what  I  did,  I  did  by  the 
advice  of  knights,  ladies,  and  citizens  of  this  country.’ 

“  Then  they  silenced  him.  He  was  put  in  a  perfectly 
new  pillory,  which  they  set  up  on  the  chief  street  of  Lille, 
with  two  great  rascals  beside  him,  one  on  his  left  and  the 
other  on  his  right ;  then  he  was  hung  on  a  gibbet,  with 

275 


Medieval  Civilization 


a  brand-new  chain,  so  that  it  should  not  break.  He  hung 
there  more  than  a  year. 

“  People  said :  ‘  A  man  must  be  greatly  in  need  of  a 
fool,  to  make  one  of  himself.’  But  there  were  also  some 
who  said,  under  their  breath,  that  the  countess  of  Flan¬ 
ders  had  put  her  father  to  death.” 


276 


Classical  Learning  in  the  Middle  Ages 


Adapted  from  G.  Voigt:  Die  Wiederbelebung  des  class- 
ischen  Alterthums,  1893,  pp.  4-10. 

HE  decline  of  the  Roman  Empire  was  accompanied 


J-  by  a  gradual  decline  of  taste  for  Roman  literature, 
until  in  the  seventh  century  it  was  as  good  as  extinguished. 
And  yet,  not  quite  extinguished.  In  addition  to  the  Ro¬ 
man  law-books,  the  Roman  historical,  philosophical,  and 
poetical  literature  never  lay  in  entire  neglect.  Sallust, 
Livy,  some  of  Cicero’s  and  of  Seneca’s  writings,  Vergil 
and  Lucan,  Horace  and  Ovid,  Terence  and  Pliny,  were 
still  read,  now  and  then,  in  the  quiet  of  monastic  cells  and 
woven  into  the  ecclesiastical,  scholastic,  and  historical 
writings  of  the  time.  The  Church  Fathers  made  many 
references  to  the  profane  authors,  and  derived  from  them 
a  good  portion  of  their  erudition.  Through  the  writings 
of  the  Fathers  and  the  later  ecclesiastical  compilations 
such  as  Bishop  Isidore  of  Seville  made,  some  classical 
ideas  and  some  extracts  from  ancient  authors  remained  in 
steady  circulation.  Others  were  handed  on,  in  an  equally 
mangled  form,  through  fables,  legends,  and  poems,  like 
the  confused  fables  of  the  Trojan  war,  of  Alexander  the 
Great,  and  of  various  Roman  emperors.  Boethius,  whose 
Christo-philosophic  Consolations  was  always  held  in  high 
esteem,  gave  in  his  Commentaries  another  impulse  to- 


2  77 


Medieval  Civilization 


ward  the  study,  or  at  least  the  consideration,  of  the  Aris¬ 
totelian  philosophy.  Hundreds  of  similar  suggestive  clas¬ 
sical  touches  are  to  be  found  in  the  other  writers.  Finally, 
we  possess,  from  every  period  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
written  copies  of  classical  authors,  which  bear  witness  to 
an  active  interest  in  this  literature.  If  a  list  were  made 
of  those  medieval  writers  who  were  more  or  less  conver¬ 
sant  with  this  literature,  they  would  form  an  impressive 
array,  and  among  them  many  prominent  names  would 
find  a  place.  One  would  be  almost  led  to  conclude  that  a 
renaissance  of  antiquity  was  quite  unnecessary.  At  the 
court  of  Charles  the  Great  the  Latin  poets  were  lovingly 
read  and  their  verses  imitated,  and  never  again  did  they 
sink  into  complete  oblivion.  In  many  an  episcopal  court 
and  in  the  justly  famed  houses  of  the  Benedictines,  the 
poetic  art  of  the  Romans  and  a  knowledge  of  things  Ro¬ 
man  found  a  new  abiding-place,  and  were  handed  down 
in  library  collections  and  the  exercises  of  the  schools. 
Childish  and  clumsy  the  product  was,  to  be  sure,  but  the 
models  followed  were  good,  classical  models.  Einhard, 
the  biographer  of  Charles,  took  Suetonius  for  his  model, 
and  Widukind  followed  Sallust.  Ekkehard  of  Aura 
adorned  his  writings  with  sayings  from  Cicero,  and  in 
many  other  ways  exhibits  no  mean  familiarity  with  the 
ancients.  The  zeal  with  which  Ratherius  of  Verona  and 
Gerbert  collected  and  read  ancient  classical  works  is 
known.  What  a  wealth  of  erudition  did  John  of  Salisbury 
glean  from  classical  literature !  He  strove  to  imitate 
Ovid’s  verse  and  Cicero’s  prose,  and  to  wrest  from  Quin¬ 
tilian  the  rules  of  eloquence.  The  epic  poets  of  the  Middle 
Ages  could  find  their  models  in  the  honored  Vergil,  in 


Classical  Learning 

Lucan  and  Claudian.  They  accustomed  themselves  to  a 
complete  surrender  to  antiquity. 

Some  there  have  been  who,  on  reading  the  songs  of  the 
wandering  scholars  and  Goliards,  have  regarded  them  as 
forerunners  of  the  Humanists,  because  they  boldly  praise 
the  world  and  the  lusts  of  the  flesh,  now  and  then  intro¬ 
duce  the  old  heathen  gods  into  their  songs,  and  ridicule 
the  institutions  of  school  and  Church.  But  it  is  only  the 
lust  of  life  and  the  thoughtlessness  of  youth  which  pul¬ 
sate  in  these  variable  and  emancipated  natures,  and  their 
scanty  school-day  reminiscences  show  no  real  intimacy 
with  antiquity.  Such  work  could  furnish  no  enduring 
impulse  for  the  future. 

Let  it  be  conceded  that  the  Middle  Ages  possessed  a 
mass  of  antiquarian  knowledge ;  they  lacked  the  classical 
attitude  toward  life,  they  lacked  that  surrender  to  the  an¬ 
cient  world,  that  yearning  efifort  to  re-live  the  ancient  past 
and  to  embrace  it  with  all  the  strength  of  their  being, 
which  marked  the  Humanists.  None  of  the  great  ones  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  neither  Ratherius  nor  Gerbert,  Abelard 
nor  John  of  Salisbury,  knew  Greek  ;  and,  what  is  more  sig¬ 
nificant,  none  of  them  ever  expressed  a  longing  to  be  able 
to  possess  the  treasures  of  Hellenic  literature,  although 
the  Latin  writers  they  read  gave  utterance  to  their  love 
and  honor  for  the  Greeks.  Wherever  a  spark  of  the  Hu¬ 
manistic  spirit  slumbered,  the  name  of  Homer  fanned  it 
into  a  flame ! 

The  influences  which  were  hostile  to  antiquity  were 
still  far  in  the  ascendant.  Christianity  and  the  Church 
would  as  yet  hear  of  no  reconciliation  with  the  pagan  past. 
They  had  grown  to  strength  through  conflict  with  the 

2/9 


Medieval  Civilization 

heathen  world,  and  the  spark  of  heathenism,  though  mis¬ 
erable,  still  glowed  beneath  the  ruins  of  its  temples,  and, 
though  conquered,  still  remained  with  its  free,  art-loving 
attitude  toward  life,  an  enemy  ever  to  be  feared.  Even 
in  the  days  of  its  overthrow,  it  still  seemed  to  many  wor¬ 
thy  teachers  of  the  Church,  who  had  formerly  been  soph¬ 
ists  or  rhetoricians,  a  sort  of  seductive  siren.  Others 
there  were  who  had  not  entirely  disowned  the  heathen 
mother  who  had  given  them  spiritual  sustenance  in  their 
youth.  Basil  even  wrote  a  little  work  in  her  defense,  and 
Gregory  Nazianzen,  Jerome,  and  Augustine  retained 
kindly  feelings  toward  her.  The  rigorism  of  Gregory  the 
Great  has  been  cited  to  prove  how  thoroughly  and  dis¬ 
dainfully  the  heathen  poets  had  been  trodden  under  foot 
in  his  day ;  but  the  very  circumstance  that  Gregory  felt  it 
necessary  to  wage  vigorous  warfare  against  them  only 
proves  once  again  that  the  taste  for  and  seductive  power 
of  the  “  dead  ”  were  by  no  means  gone.  Alcuin  reproved 
the  archbishop  of  Treves  for  his  fondness  for  Vergil,  the 
poet  of  lies,  who  estranged  men  from  the  Gospel,  although 
he  himself  had  gained  much  of  his  culture  from  Vergil, 
Cicero,  and  other  of  the  ancients.  Abbot  Wibald  of  Cor- 
vey,  captivated  by  Cicero’s  diction,  made  a  collection  of 
his  works,  but  was  none  the  less  timorously  on  his  guard 
lest  he  should  appear  more  a  Ciceronian  than  a  Christian ; 
he  assures  us  that  in  such  studies  he  regarded  himself  as 
a  spy  in  the  camp  of  the  enemy.  Even  when  the  war  with 
the  surviving  vestiges  of  heathenism  sank  into  the  back¬ 
ground,  when  the  struggle  of  popes  and  emperors  en¬ 
grossed  men’s  minds,  when,  in  the  midst  of  the  schism, 
the  learned  men  of  the  Church  were  especially  concerned 

280 


Classical  Learning 

with  forging  theological  and  canonical  weapons,  even 
then  men  could  not  avoid  a  fearsome  shudder  at  the 
thought  of  the  vanquished  powers  of  heathenism,  which, 
though  as  it  were  chained  in  hell,  still  lived  and  threat¬ 
ened  revenge.  To  these  men  the  age  of  the  Greeks  and 
Romans  appeared  as  a  night  in  which  men  worshiped 
impure  demons,  and  these  demons,  although  they  were 
abandoned  by  the  Christian  faith,  still  kept  up  their  home¬ 
less  existence  in  the  superstitions  of  the  age.  No;  so  long 
as  the  Church  strove  to  oppose  the  kingdom  of  God  upon 
earth  to  the  tendencies  of  the  world,  she  could  never  reach 
out  the  hand  of  reconciliation  to  antiquity.  She  could  not 
suffer  that  the  human  spirit  should  be  ravished  and  ab¬ 
sorbed  by  a  past  which  was  not  her  own,  or  that  the  in¬ 
tellect  of  man  should  be  diverted  from  the  contemplation 
of  the  everlasting  kingdom  promised  by  Christ,  of  which 
she,  the  Church,  alone  held  the  keys. 

And  so  the  Church,  while  the  spirit  of  purification  was 
still  alive  in  her  and  a  holy  domination  was  her  ideal, 
monopolized  for  her  own  purposes  the  mighty  lever  of 
men’s  deeds  and  emotions  and  imagination.  Through 
her  handmaiden,  scholasticism,  she  kept  thought  under 
discipline.  She  preferred  to .  repress  the  taste  for  the 
beautiful,  rather  than  let  it  feed  upon  the  materials  which 
were  to  be  found  among  the  classical  peoples.  It  is  no 
accident  that  when  the  ecclesiastical  sun  grew  pale  the 
moonlight  of  heathenism  emerged  from  her  long  eclipse. 
If  this  conclusion  be  not  sound,  how  explain  this  fact, 
that  all  the  interest  of  individuals  in  classical  literature 
which  we  not  infrequently  meet  in  the  Middle  Ages  was 
absolutely  unproductive?  The  truth  is  that  antiquity  is 

281 


Medieval  Civilization 


a  world  apart,  and  that  he  alone  who  grasps  it  as  such, 
and  regards  it  with  a  single  devotion,  can  hope  to  secure 
its  cultural  material.  No  part  of  knowledge  can  flourish 
when  condemned  to  be  the  slave  of  another. 

It  is  certain  that  we  are  indebted  for  the  preservation 
of  classical  literature,  as  far  as  it  has  been  preserved,  to 
the  monks  above  all  others.  For  hundreds  of  years  they 
truly  sheltered  and  preserved  the  treasures  heaped  up  by 
those  gone  before,  and  also  multiplied  them  through  copy¬ 
ing.  But  it  was  never  their  vocation ;  they  were  not  de¬ 
voted  heart  and  soul  to  the  work.  Book-copying  was  usu¬ 
ally  a  mere  arid  task.  At  times  it  was  enjoined  by  the 
rules  of  the  order,  to  soften  rude  manners  through  peace¬ 
ful  employment,  to  occupy  the  leisure  of  feeble  brothers, 
or  to  procure  gain  for  the  monastery;  again,  it  was 
merely  permitted,  and  at  times  it  was  actually  forbidden. 
If,  in  the  famous  houses  of  the  Benedictines  at  Monte 
Cassino,  Cluny,  St.  Gall,  or  Fulda,  some  classical  volumes 
were  copied  along  with  a  lot  of  theological  works,  mass- 
and  prayer-books,  it  was  done  at  the  command  of  the 
abbot,  or  was,  perhaps,  the  playful  hobby  of  the  brother 
himself.  But  they  rarely  got  beyond  the  dead  letter. 
Many  a  time,  while  the  aristocratic  abbot  strode  through 
the  fields,  his  falcon  on  his  wrist,  or  attended  tourneys 
and  celebrations,  or  gazed  at  the  buffooneries  enacted  at 
the  gluttonous  banquets,  and  the  brethren  sauntered 
around  or  enlivened  their  idle  speech  with  wine,  the  books 
accumulated  dust  and  moldered  away  in  the  darkest  and 
dankest  cells,  excepting  the  altar-  and  prayer-books,  and 
perhaps  the  books  on  agriculture  upon  which  the  reve¬ 
nues  and  even  the  necessaries  of  the  monastery  depended. 

282 


Classical  Learning 

Hence  it  is  that  in  the  course  of  the  centuries  perhaps 
quite  as  much  classical  literature  turned  to  dust  and  was 
lost  forever  as  was  saved.  The  classics  were  treated  as 
guests,  and  never  enjoyed  the  rights  of  the  home. 

The  existence  which  the  classical  books  lived  in  the 
monasteries  was  the  same  existence  which  the  contents  of 
these  books  lived  in  the  minds  of  men.  As  long  as  culture 
in  general,  and  education  in  particular,  were  in  ecclesiasti¬ 
cal  hands  exclusively,  the  ancient  literature  was  treated 
as  a  stepchild.  That  is  why  the  apparent  advance  made 
in  Carolingian  times,  and  its  Ottoman  echo,  were  practi¬ 
cally  fruitless,  just  as  frequent  contact  with  Byzantium, 
the  archives  of  Hellenism,  produced  in  the  West  only 
fugitive  fashions.  Continuity  of  effort  and  cooperation 
of  the  strivers  were  lacking.  The  common  idea  was  that 
the  Latin  tongue  was  a  primer  for  the  clergy.  It  was 
learned  out  of  Donatus  and  his  barbarous  successors, 
which  were  supplemented  by  some  of  Cicero’s  writings 
or  a  poet  or  two,  as  a  storehouse  of  examples  for  the  rules 
of  grammar.  A  more  poverty-stricken  existence  than  the 
Roman  authors  led  during  these  times  is  scarcely  con¬ 
ceivable-serving  for  the  preparatory  training  of  clerics 
and  as  a  lifeless  kill-time.  And  they  were  no  better  off 
when  they  came  out  of  the  monastery  and  were  planted  in 
the  monastic  schools,  and  then  in  the  universities.  Here, 
too,  they  were  servants  to  the  more  important  faculties 
of  the  university,  and  never  attained  an  independent  ex¬ 
istence  with  spirits  of  the  first  rank,  such  as  Abelard  and 
John  of  Salisbury.  Scraps  from  the  classics  served  at 
best  to  fill  in  the  gaps  in  a  theological  or  philosophical 
system,  just  as  the  marble  pillars  of  ancient  temples  and 

283 


Medieval  Civilization 


palaces  were  employed,  without  shame,  for  common  citi¬ 
zens’  houses. 

We  will  not  repeat  the  old  song  of  the  complete  lack 
of  discernment,  of  critical  power,  and  of  taste  in  medieval 
times.  And  yet,  however  thoughtlessly  it  has  often  been 
sung,  it  is,  nevertheless,  undeniable  that  the  intellectual 
and  esthetic  acquisitions  of  antiquity  were  for  centuries 
as  good  as  lost. 


284 


The  Latin  Classics  in  the 
Middle  Ages 


Adapted  from  A.  Graf:  Roma  nella  memoria  e  nelle  immaginazi- 
oni  del  medio  evo,  1883,  Vol.  II,  pp.  153-195,  204-210,  216,  296. 

HE  Roman  emperors,  good  and  bad,  who  had  gov- 


J.  erned  the  world,  opposed  or  favored  the  Church,  and 
filled  Rome  with  the  monuments  of  their  pomp  and  power, 
gave  rise  in  the  Middle  Ages,  which  were  essentially  fan¬ 
ciful,  to  numerous  legends;  and  the  same  is  equally  true 
of  the  Latin  authors.  In  their  immortal  pages  the  great 
soul  of  Rome  seemed  still  to  live  and  speak,  and  their 
books,  scattered  among  the  barbarians  like  the  floating 
timbers  of  a  shattered  vessel,  were  almost  the  only  means 
of  salvation  for  shipwrecked  civilization.  The  sumptuous 
edifices  of  the  Caesars  either  lay  in  dust  or  encumbered 
with  their  ruins  the  devastated  capital  of  the  world :  but 
the  books  written  by  the  poets  and  historians,  by  the  rheto¬ 
ricians  and  philosophers,  preserved  intact  its  primitive 
splendor.  They  alone  could  now  furnish  full  and  certain 
evidence  of  that  glorious  past  of  which  time  was  always 
effacing  the  remains  and  increasing  the  renown.  They 
were  the  living  and  imperishable  voice  of  Rome,  and 
through  them  later  ages  came  to  know  their  own  origins 
and  to  hold  converse  with  their  ancient  progenitors. 


285 


Medieval  Civilization 


In  endeavoring  to  gain  a  general  idea  of  the  way  in 
which  the  Roman  writers  were  studied,  and  of  the  esteem 
in  which  they  were  held  during  the  Middle  Ages,  it  will 
be  well  to  begin  with  a  general  consideration  of  actual  con¬ 
ditions. 

Rome,  as  a  political  and  intellectual  power,  either  no 
longer  existed  or  existed  in  a  state  of  profound  transfor¬ 
mation  :  but  the  books  of  her  writers,  if  we  disregard  the 
more  or  less  serious  changes  resulting  from  the  careless¬ 
ness  and  ignorance  of  copyists,  or  the  naive  effrontery  of 
interpolators,  remained  unaltered.  They  continued  to 
live,  but  in  a  world  which  was  no  longer  theirs ;  children 
of  a  pagan  civilization,  they  found  themselves  astray  in 
a  rebarbarized  and,  what  is  more,  a  Christian  world. 
Manifestly,  their  fortune  could  no  longer  be  the  same  as 
in  the  past,  and  the  judgments  formed  concerning  them 
were  necessarily  affected  by  the  changed  conditions  of 
civilization  and  religious  belief.  Between  the  Latin  and 
pagan  writers  on  the  one  hand,  and  barbarism  and  Chris¬ 
tianity  on  the  other,  there  were  opposition  and  incompati¬ 
bility.  Barbarism,  which  in  the  matter  of  the  classics 
meant  more  particularly  ignorance,  gave  rise  to  errors  of 
judgment  and  extravagant  fancies;  Christianity,  estab¬ 
lished  in  the  Church,  personified  in  the  ecclesiastical  wri¬ 
ters,  and  solicitous  for  the  rooting  out  of  false  beliefs, 
gave  rise  to  moral  reprobation.  The  books  and  their 
authors  were  misunderstood,  disguised  with  legends,  and 
condemned.  And  yet,  at  the  same  time,  a  sentiment  of 
invincible  and  almost  unconscious  admiration  for  them 
existed,  and  ignorance  failed  to  deform  them,  and  faith 
did  not  succeed  in  killing  them. 

286 


Latin  Classics 


It  is  not  an  easy  task  to  judge  fairly  the  policy  of  the 
Church  toward  the  pagan  culture;  the  majority,  in  such 
matters,  allow  themselves  to  be  led  astray  by  passion.  To 
maintain  that  the  Church  did  not  injure  pagan  culture  is 
as  absurd  as  to  refuse  to  recognize  that  the  Church  was 
bound  by  its  very  constitution  to  combat  it.  The  spirit 
of  paganism  survived  completely  in  the  poets  inspired 
by  it ;  it  survived,  too,  in  the  arts  produced  and  nourished 
by  it;  and  the  attractiveness  of  error,  in  itself  almost  irre¬ 
sistible  to  fallen  man,  conceived  in  iniquity,  was  in  this 
case  enhanced  by  the  perilous  charm  of  beauty.  In  strict 
logic,  a  man  could  not  be  a  good  Christian  and  at  the  same 
time  find  delight  in  the  reading  of  the  poetry  of  the 
heathen.  Logic,  however,  has  never  ruled  the  world,  and 
even  in  the  midst  of  the  struggle  between  the  waxing 
Church  and  the  waning  paganism,  and  afterward,  when 
the  Church  was  certain  of  victory,  there  were  always  some 
who  were  devoted  students  of  the  classical  literature  and 
commended  the  study  to  others.  The  Christian  apologists 
studied  the  pagan  classics  from  the  imperious  necessity 
of  their  office;  St.  Basil,  St.  Gregory  Nazianzen,  St. 
Jerome,  and  St.  Augustine  counseled,  with  various  cau¬ 
tions  and  restrictions,  the  study  of  these  works.  On  the 
other  hand,  a  great  number  of  examples  of  a  contrary  na¬ 
ture  might  be  cited.  For  example,  Theophilus,  the  re¬ 
nowned  bishop  of  Alexandria,  destroyed  all  the  classical 
books  he  could  lay  his  hands  on,  and  Gregory  the  Great 
made  war  even  on  grammar. 

This  perplexed  attitude  of  Christian  sentiment  toward 
the  ancient  culture  and  its  monuments  continued  through¬ 
out  the  Middle  Ages,  so  that  it  is  very  difficult  to  say  how 

287 


Medieval  Civilization 

much  the  Church  hurt,  and  how  much  it  helped,  the  clas¬ 
sical  writers.  Every  one  who  is  competent  to  pass  an  im¬ 
partial  judgment  on  the  matter  recognizes  that  the  causes 
of  the  decline  of  pagan  literature  were,  in  part,  anterior 
to  the  period  when  the  Church  began  to  operate  with  some 
effectiveness  upon  pagan  society.  Nor  is  it  well  to  forget 
that  all,  or  almost  all,  the  Latin  literature  which  has  come 
down  to  us  was  preserved  by  the  diligence  of  clerics. 
They  admired  the  immortal  charms  of  which  the  pages 
spoke,  the  renowned  ancient  artifices  of  thought  and 
speech,  but  they  feared  their  sweet  allurements.  The  evil 
spirit  that  could  lie  in  wait  in  the  smile  of  a  beautiful 
woman,  in  a  cup  of  generous  wine,  or  in  the  perfume  of 
a  flower,  knew  well  how  to  set,  in  a  hexameter  of  Vergil 
or  a  choriambic  of  Horace,  insidious  ambushes  that  en¬ 
snared  the  soul.  Many,  in  the  presence  of  the  authors  of 
antiquity,  found  themselves  in  the  frame  of  mind  of  a 
timid  lover,  tossed  about  between  the  desire  of  passion 
and  the  horror  of  sin.  Peter  Damiani  (988-1072),  the 
great  restorer  of  monastic  discipline,  says  in  a  sermon : 
“  One  time  Cicero  charmed  me,  the  songs  of  the  poets 
delighted  me,  the  philosophers  shone  upon  me  with  golden 
words,  and  the  sweet  sirens  sang  to  my  intellect.”  Do 
not  the  good  Peter’s  words  reveal  fear,  fond  remem¬ 
brance,  and  a  lament  over  lost  delights  ?  In  others,  au¬ 
sterity  of  temperament,  a  gloomy  and  morose  nature,  and 
the  anguished  thought  of  eternal  damnation  gave  birth  to 
graver  doubts  and  more  gloomy  fears  which  expressed 
themselves  in  words  of  contumely  and  execration.  In 
the  seventh  century,  St.  Audoenus,  for  example,  called 
Homer  and  Vergil  rascals.  In  the  tenth  century  Leo, 

288 


Latin  Classics 


abbot  of  St.  Boniface  and  apostolic  legate,  answered  the 
accusation  of  ignorance  which  the  bishops  of  Gaul  made 
at  the  synod  of  Rheims  against  the  Roman  ecclesiastics 
by  declaring,  in  a  letter  to  the  kings,  Hugh  and  Robert 
of  France,  that  the  vicars  and  disciples  of  St.  Peter  did 
not  wish  to  have  Plato,  Vergil,  and  the  other  philosophic 
cattle  as  their  masters.  Radulf  Glaber  relates  in  his 
chronicle  the  story  of  a  grammarian  of  Ravenna  who 
was  a  zealous  student  of  the  ancient  authors.  To  him  ap¬ 
peared,  one  night,  in  the  guise  of  Vergil,  Horace,  and 
Juvenal,  several  devils,  who  thanked  him  for  the  diligence 
he  had  shown  in  their  works,  and  promised  him  that  after 
death  he  should  share  in  their  own  glory.  Puffed  up  by 
this  promise,  he  began  to  say  many  things  prejudicial 
to  the  true  faith,  and  was  condemned  as  a  heretic.  In  the 
same  way  the  devil  assumed  the  form  of  this  or  that  an¬ 
cient  divinity.  And  yet,  if  we  see  on  the  one  hand  what 
a  feeling  of  execration  the  pagan  authors  inspired  in  the 
most  faithful  Christians,  we  see  on  the  other  those  who 
were  enamoured  of  the  pagan  authors  and  esteemed  them 
glorious.  St.  Odo,  abbot  of  Cluny,  was  weaned  of  his 
love  for  reading  Vergil  by  a  vision  in  which  he  saw  a 
vase,  most  beautiful  without  but  full  of  serpents  within, 
which  came  out  and  sought  to  strangle  him.  He  con¬ 
cluded  that  the  serpents  were  the  false  teachings  of  the 
poets,  and  the  vase  the  book  of  Vergil.  Helinandus  tells 
how  Hugh,  abbot  of  Cluny,  about  the  middle  of  the  elev¬ 
enth  century,  while  sleeping  dreamed  that  his  head  rested 
on  a  great  multitude  of  serpents.  He  awoke,  raised  the 
bolster,  and  found  beneath  it  an  ancient  volume  of  Vergil. 
He  threw  it  from  him  and  then  went  peacefully  to  sleep. 

289 


'Medieval  Civilization 


Some  more  tolerant  churchmen  considered  the  study  of 
the  classics  useless,  inasmuch  as  the  sacred  Scriptures  and 
the  dogmas  of  the  Church  furnished  certain  and  unmis¬ 
takable  truth ;  others  deemed  it  foolishly  hurtful  to  mor¬ 
als  and  to  the  faith.  In  the  Speculum  Exemplorum  it  is 
recorded  that  St.  Francis  launched  a  formidable  maledic¬ 
tion  against  one  of  his  followers  who  had,  without  permis¬ 
sion,  set  up  a  school  at  Bologna.  “  You  wish,”  said  he  to 
the  culprit,  “  to  destroy  my  order.  I  desired  and  willed 
that  in  accordance  with  the  example  of  my  Lord  my  little 
brothers  should  pray  more  than  they  should  read.”  The 
poor  accursed  one  at  once  fell  ill  and  took  to  his  bed.  A 
fiery,  sulphurous  drop  fell  from  the  sky  and  miraculously 
destroyed  his  life,  piercing  both  his  body  and  his  bed. 
The  devil  carried  away  his  soul. 

The  Dominicans,  truth  to  tell,  in  spite  of  their  rule, 
had  no  such  attitude  toward  the  classics,  and  Jacopo 
Passavanti,  for  example,  was  ordered  by  his  superiors  to 
study  at  Paris.  His  Mirror  of  True  Penitence,  especially 
the  Latin  version  of  it,  with  its  examples  drawn  from  an¬ 
cient  history  and  fables,  bears  ample  testimony  to  his  pro¬ 
fane  studies. 

If  the  rules  of  some  monastic  orders  forbade  the  read¬ 
ing  of  the  pagan  authors,  the  rules  of  other  orders  not 
only  permitted  it,  but  made  it  an  express  obligation  to 
copy  manuscripts.  In  this  way  the  monks  of  the  tenth, 
eleventh,  and  twelfth  centuries  rendered  services  to  civili¬ 
zation  which  will  never  be  forgotten.  If  there  had  not 
been  great  abbeys  where  schools  of  grammar  were  estab¬ 
lished,  and  where  as  many  books  as  possible  were  jeal¬ 
ously  preserved,  perhaps  not  one  Latin  writer  would  have 

290 


Latin  Classics 


come  down  to  us.  It  is  foolish  to  blame  the  monks,  be¬ 
cause  they  did  not  regard  the  pagan  authors  in  the  same 
way  that  we  do ;  we  should  rather  praise  them  for  having 
known,  in  some  measure,  how  to  reconcile  the  love  of  let¬ 
ters  with  the  religious  sentiment,  contravening  sometimes, 
as  they  did,  not  only  the  spirit  but  the  very  letter  of  the 
monastic  rules ;  we  should  see  in  this  a  proof  of  the  great 
attractiveness  which  the  ancient  writings  preserved 
throughout  the  Middle  Ages,  and  of  the  aptitude  of  the 
men  of  those  times  for  enjoying  the  beauties  of  pagan 
letters.  There  were  always  some  who  openly  advised  the 
reading  of  the  classics.  Many  who  publicly  condemned 
it  and  dissuaded  others  from  it,  enjoyed  it  themselves, 
and  were  proud  to  be  able  to  show  in  their  own  writings 
the  erudition  and  elegance  they  had  acquired  from  the  an¬ 
cient  authors.  The  ancient  poets,  historians,  and  philoso¬ 
phers  were  continually  mentioned,  and  their  sentences  and 
opinions  cited  and  commented  upon,  not  only  in  works 
on  profane  subjects,  but  also,  and  to  a  much  greater  ex¬ 
tent,  in  writings  on  religious  subjects,  in  theological  and 
ascetic  treatises,  in  books  on  education,  and  in  polemical 
writings.  It  is  not  one  of  the  least  curious  things  in  such 
works  to  find  the  pagan  writers  carefully  cited  side  by 
side  with  the  Fathers,  and  their  books  hobnobbing  with 
the  Scriptures.  Seneca,  Cicero,  Juvenal,  and  even  Hor¬ 
ace  are  cited  under  the  honored  name  of  ethical  writers 
( ethici )  ;  their  opinions  are  repeated  without  any  indica¬ 
tion  as  to  the  special  author  from  which  they  were  de¬ 
rived,  and  are  simply  accompanied  with  the  words  “  the 
ethical  writer  says  ”  ( ethicus  ait )  ;  in  another  medieval 
work  containing  forty-seven  moral  reflections,  the  ma- 

291 


Medieval  Civilization 


jority  embody  the  ideas  of  pagan  writers,  especially  of 
Cicero,  Seneca,  Livy,  Ovid,  Juvenal,  Pliny,  Solinus,  and 
Valerius  Maximus.  It  is  true  that  many  of  those  who  : 
cite  a  pagan  author  know  nothing  of  the  man  himself  save 
his  name,  and  that  only  at  second  or  third  hand ;  it  is 
also  true  that  the  citations  are  usually  from  memory.  The 
significant  thing,  however,  is  not  the  extensive  or  slight, 
exact  or  inexact,  knowledge  of  the  classical  authors,  but 
the  great  respect  and  admiration  which  the  medieval  wri¬ 
ters  have  and  show  for  them.  Their  reputation  for  wis¬ 
dom  and  vefacity  was  universal.  William  of  Hirschau, 
who  died  in  1091,  relates  the  opinion  of  some  who  founded 
the  whole  theory  of  the  four  elements  (earth,  air,  fire, 
and  water)  upon  a  verse  of  Juvenal,  and  even  Dante  did 
not  dare  to  contradict  Juvenal  without  excusing  himself 
for  it.  The  reputation  of  the  Latin  writers  was  so  great 
that  many,  in  order  to  gain  repute  for  their  own  works, 
pretended  that  they  had  Latin  sources ;  the  writers  on 
natural  history  especially  were  wont  to  palm  off,  under 
the  names  of  Pliny,  Solinus,  and  ^Elianus,  the  most  ex¬ 
travagant  fables.  Even  at  a  later  time,  Christian  poets, 
like  Brunetto  Latini,  Dante,  and  Fazio  degli  Uberti,  take 
the  pagan  writers  as  their  guides  upon  symbolical  jour¬ 
neys,  and,  under  their  escort,  teach,  narrate,  and  describe 
the  profoundest  mysteries  of  the  universe.  Some  of  these 
worthy  pagan  guides  had  already  been  given  a  place  in 
the  kingdom  of  heaven ;  others,  who  never  had  baptism 
but  were  without  sin,  were  withdrawn  from  hell  and 
abode  with  honor,  and  without  punishment,  in  a  separate 
place.  Honorius  Augustodunensis,  a  cleric  who  lived  in 
the  first  half  of  the  twelfth  century,  says  in  his  treatise, 

292 


Latin  Classics 


The  Exile  and  Native  Land  of  the  Soul,  or  the  Arts,  that 
the  exile  of  the  soul  is  none  other  than  ignorance,  and  that 
the  native  land  is  knowledge.  The  return  home  from 
exile  is,  he  says,  a  road  along  which  ten  cities  are  located. 
These  are  Grammar,  Rhetoric,  Dialectics,  Arithmetic, 
Music,  Geometry,  Astronomy,  Physics,  Mechanics,  and 
Economics.  In  the  first  city  Donatus  and  Priscian  teach ; 
in  the  second,  Cicero ;  the  third,  Aristotle ;  the  fourth, 
Boethius;  the  fifth,  disciples  of  Boethius;  the  sixth,  Ara- 
tus ;  the  seventh,  Hyginus  and  Julius  Caesar;  and  in  the 
eighth,  Hippocrates.  He  gives  no  particular  master  for 
the  ninth  or  tenth. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  natural  hostility  of  the 
Church  toward  the  pagan  authors,  the  feeling  of  admira¬ 
tion  they  inspired  filled  the  souls  of  medieval  writers,  and 
forbade  that  condemnation  should  pass  from  theory  into 
practice.  St.  Bernard  says,  in  one  of  his  works :  “  They 
all  were  pleasing  to  God  in  their  lifetime  by  rectitude,  and 
not  by  knowledge.  Peter  and  Andrew  and  the  sons  of 
Zebedee  and  their  fellow-disciples  did  not  come  out  of  the 
school  of  the  rhetoricians  and  the  philosophers.”  But  he 
adds :  “  I  may,  perhaps,  seem  to  insult  knowledge  too 
greatly,  and  as  it  were  to  condemn  the  learned  and  forbid 
zealous  studies.  Far  be  it  from  me.”  Moreover,  it  is  to 
be  borne  in  mind  that  a  certain  classical  and  pagan  tradi¬ 
tion,  too  strongly  rooted  to  be  completely  destroyed,  sur¬ 
vived  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  in  the  European  prov¬ 
inces  which  had  once  been  under  the  sway  of  Rome.  This 
reappeared,  here  and  there,  in  popular  literature,  per¬ 
petuated  itself  in  certain  beliefs  and  customs,  mani¬ 
fested  itself  in  certain  propensities  of  mind,  and,  with- 

293 


Medieval  Civilization 


out  being  perceived  by  others,  succeeded  in  softening 
certain  contrasts,  and  caused  the  ancient  world,  as 
represented  by  its  writers,  to  seem  less  strange  and  less 
distorted  than  would  otherwise  have  been  the  case.  This 
was  truer  of  Italy  than  elsewhere,  and  Otto  of  Freising, 
in  the  twelfth  century,  marveled  to  find,  in  Lombardy, 
the  language,  the  urbanity,  and  the  wisdom  of  the  Ro¬ 
mans.  The  rudest  popular  songs  of  Italy,  in  the  eleventh 
and  twelfth  centuries,  abounded  in  memories  of  Rome,  of 
her  glories  and  her  divinity.  This  persistence  of  a  more 
vital  and  more  jealously  guarded  classical  tradition  in 
Italy  helps  to  explain  why  the  Renaissance  originated 
there,  and  spread  thence  to  the  rest  of  Europe.  The 
schools  of  grammar  and  of  rhetoric  never  died  out  en¬ 
tirely  in  Italy  or  outside  of  Italy,  and,  in  spite  of  great 
changes,  they  could  be  traced  directly  back  to  the  ancient 
schools  of  the  empire.  But  the  strongest  and  most  effica¬ 
cious  of  all  bonds  between  the  old  age  and  the  new,  be¬ 
tween  the  pagan  world  and  the  Christian  world,  was  the 
beautiful,  vigorous,  and  triumphant  Latin  language.  In 
the  conquest  of  lands  and  peoples  it  was  not  less  effective 
than  the  arms  of  the  legionaries.  The  Church  had 
blessed  it  by  confiding  to  its  safe-keeping  the  truths  of  the 
faith,  and  by  making  it  the  august  instrument  of  preach¬ 
ing.  For  a  long  time  it  defended  its  uncertain  dominion 
against  the  nascent  vulgar  tongues,  and  even  when  the 
battle  was  at  length  lost,  it  withdrew  but  reluctantly 
from  the  people,  bound  itself  always  more  closely  to  all 
the  thought  of  the  times,  and,  greatest  proof  of  vitality 
in  languages,  it  was  able  to  change  and  transform  itself, 
docilely  lending  itself  to  every  necessity,  and  advancing, 

294 


Latin  Classics 

step  by  step,  with  history.  Men  wrote,  prayed,  and 
preached  in  Latin,  and  rough,  unpolished  Latin  songs 
circulated  among  the  people.  Strange  to  relate,  Latin 
did  not  become  a  truly  dead  language  until  the  beginning 
of  the  Renaissance.  The  Church  spoke  the  very  language 
of  the  ancient  poets,  and  the  measures  which  had  been 
employed  to  celebrate  Jove  and  Venus  still  served  to 
celebrate  Christ  and  Mary.  Unity  of  language  is  a  bond 
fitted  to  hold  morally  conjoined,  through  the  ages,  the 
separate  parts  of  a  politically  divided  people.  Would 
it  not,  in  this  case,  despite  every  other  contrast,  help  to 
draw  the  Christian  reader  and  the  pagan  writer  near  to 
each  other,  and  to  facilitate  the  conciliation  of  the  ancient 
spirit  and  the  new?  The  Latin  language  and  the  Latin 
writers  were  together  the  best  surviving  part  of  the  scat¬ 
tered  heritage  of  Rome ;  the  medieval  man,  reading, 
speaking,  and  writing  Latin,  could  feel  that  he  was  Chris¬ 
tian  and  Roman  at  the  same  time.  This  explains  the 
importance  attached  to  grammatical  studies  in  the  Middle 
Ages.  Nor,  in  this  connection,  should  we  direct  exclu¬ 
sive  attention  to  the  Latin  language.  Whatever  in  the 
Middle  Ages  was  able  to  cause  men  to  feel  more  pro¬ 
foundly  their  participation  in  the  life  of  ancient  Rome, 
and,  much  more,  to  tighten  the  bonds  between  descendants 
and  ancestors,  was  certain  to  redound  to  the  advantage  of 
the  pagan  writers,  shorten  distances,  awaken  sympathies, 
and  lighten  suspicions.  Roman  law,  at  least  in  Italy,  had 
never  fallen  into  oblivion,  and  it  seems  certain  that  there 
it  was  handed  down  and  practised,  without  any  interrup¬ 
tion.  In  the  first  half  of  the  eleventh  century,  Wipo,  the 
chaplain  of  the  emperors  Conrad  II  and  Henry  III, 

295 


Medieval  Civilization 

praised  the  Italian  custom  of  causing  young  men  to  study 
the  law.  Whoever  invoked  or  practised  Roman  law  must 
have  regarded  the  writers  of  Rome  as  his  illustrious  fel¬ 
low-citizens,  and  have  taken  pleasure  in  them.  Wipo 
says  in  one  of  his  proverbs :  “  Knowledge  of  the  classics 
is  the  light  of  the  soul  ” — strange  words,  truly,  in  the 
mouth  of  an  ecclesiastic,  who  should  not  have  admitted 
that  there  was  any  light  for  the  soul  outside  of  the  divine 
word  which  radiates  from  the  sacred  Scriptures.  And  it 
is  indubitable  that  these  words  expressed  a  sentiment  com¬ 
mon  to  many,  as  is  shown  by  a  countless  host  of  other 
witnesses.  Peter  of  Blois  wrote,  about  1170,  to  a  pro¬ 
fessor  at  the  university  of  Paris :  “  Priscian  and  Cicero, 
Lucan  and  Persius,  these  are  your  gods.”  It  is  even  more 
strange,  however,  that  an  ecclesiastic’s  knowledge  of  the 
pagan  writers  could  serve  as  the  basis  for  the  warmest 
eulogy  after  his  death.  In  the  Latin  epitaph  of  a  certain 
Italian  cleric  named  Guido,  who  died  probably  about 
1095,  the  following  appears  in  verse :  “  With  the  death  of 
Guido  the  sayings  of  Plato  perish,  the  work  of  Cicero  is 
destroyed,  the  deeds  of  Vergil  cease  to  speak,  and  the 
muse  of  Ovid  is  silent.  Pythagoras,  Socrates,  Plato,  Ci¬ 
cero,  and  Vergil,  whatever  they  felt,  whatever  they  taught, 
this  man  exhausted  it  all.  Therefore,  be  pleased  to  grant 
this  wish:  Free  from  hell,  may  he  reign  with  the  super¬ 
nal  King.”  Not  because  he  was  a  Christian,  not  be¬ 
cause  he  was  a  minister  of  the  Church,  not  because  he  was 
a  careful  observer  of  the  divine  law,  but,  according  to 
the  mind  of  the  writer,  because  he  had  a  rich,  poetic  vein, 
because  he  was  eloquent,  because  he  was  learned  in  clas¬ 
sical  wisdom,  did  Guido  merit  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

296 


Latin  Classics 


In  every  period  of  the  Middle  Ages  ecclesiastics  of  the 
highest  repute  studied  the  classics.  A  volume  of  exam¬ 
ples  could  easily  be  collected.  St.  Aldhelm,  born  about 
640,  knew  his  Latin  authors  very  well,  as  his  writings 
show;  Faritius,  his  biographer,  says  of  him:  “He  had 
drunk  deeply  of  the  Latin  learning.” 

Passing  over  the  ecclesiastics  at  the  court  of  Charles 
the  Great  as  well  known,  we  may  cite  Ratherius,  bishop 
of  Verona,  in  the  tenth  century,  who  read  and  loved  the 
poets;  about  1061,  Benzo,  bishop  of  Alba,  in  a  work  dedi¬ 
cated  to  the  emperor  Henry  III,  names  Vergil,  Lucan, 
Statius,  Pindar,  Homer,  Horace,  Quintilian,  and  Terence 
with  much  complacent  exhibition  of  his  classical  know¬ 
ledge.  In  the  tenth  century,  Gonzo  of  Novara,  being  ac¬ 
cused  and  ridiculed  by  the  monks  of  St.  Gall  because  he 
had  used  the  accusative  where  he  ought  to  have  employed 
the  ablative,  wrote  a  long  letter  in  defense  to  the  monks 
of  Reichenau,  making  much  display  of  erudition.  In  the 
cloister  school  of  Paderborn  they  read  Vergil,  Lucan, 
Statius,  and  the  Iliad  abridged  by  Pindar  the  Theban. 
Gerbert  (Pope  Sylvester  II)  taught  his  students  Vergil, 
Lucan,  Terence,  Juvenal,  Statius,  and  Persius.  To  all 
these  churchmen,  and  to  many  others  who  could  be 
named,  the  classical  poetry  must  have  seemed  as  it  did  to 
Alcuin — as  an  intoxicating  wine,  of  another  flavor,  to  be 
sure,  but  no  less  grateful  to  the  palate,  than  the  honey 
of  the  sacred  Scriptures.  Generally  speaking,  in  the  ninth 
and  tenth  centuries,  which  are  justly  considered  the  dark¬ 
est  of  all  the  Middle  Ages,  antiquity  was  loved  and 
studied,  and  known  much  more  than  is  commonly  be¬ 
lieved.  Ratherius  of  Verona  declared  that  he  would  not 


297 


Medieval  Civilization 

ordain  any  one  to  holy  orders  who  had  not  some  acquain¬ 
tance  with  the  classics.  In  the  following  century,  and  in 
all  the  subsequent  centuries  which  preceded  the  Renais¬ 
sance,  the  study  of  classical  literature  widened  and  deep¬ 
ened. 

But  the  classics  were  more  than  studied;  they  were 
imitated.  The  ancient  epics  and  lyrics  served  as  models 
for  the  new  epics  and  lyrics,  sometimes  with  grave  loss  of 
Christian  sentiment,  which  seems  disguised  by  the  pagan 
clothing.  Without  lingering  over  the  court  of  Charles 
the  Great,  we  may  cite  from  the  second  half  of  the  ninth 
century  the  Franconian  Otfried,  who  is  believed  to  have 
been  educated  in  the  celebrated  school  of  Fulda,  and  to 
have  been  a  disciple  of  Rabanus  Maurus.  He  was  moved 
to  write  his  poem  on  Christ  not  only  by  the  example  of 
Juvencus,  Arator,  and  Prudentius,  but  also  by  that  of 
Ovid,  Lucan,  and  Vergil.  The  nun  Roswitha  imitated 
Terence.  At  a  later  time,  Bernard  of  Chartres  imitated 
Lucretius,  who  was  almost  unknown  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
Many  other  examples  could  be  given.  Not  infrequently 
the  imitations  overshot  the  mark,  persevering  where  they 
should  have  ceased,  and  introducing  into  sacred  themes 
unsuitable  names,  epithets,  and  figures.  This  usage  was 
quite  old.  About  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century,  Aqui- 
linus  Juvencus  calls  Christ  the  “  revered  offspring  of 
Jupiter  the  Thunderer.”  Alcuin  calls  the  saints  “citizens 
of  Olympus,  royal  race  of  Jupiter”  ( cives  Olympi,  gens 
diva  Tonantis). 

Figures  of  speech,  verses,  and  entire  sentences  were 
taken  in  rich  profusion  from  the  Latin  poets  and  intro¬ 
duced  into  medieval  writings,  both  sacred  and  profane. 

298 


Latin  Classics 


Classical  myths  and  fables  were  well  known,  and  the 
writers  never  lose  an  opportunity  to  repeat  them,  and  to 
use  them  as  examples  to  enforce  some  moral  lesson. 
Some  of  the  most  famous  medieval  writers,  such  as  Alain 
de  Lille,  Jean  d’Hauteville,  Alexander  Neckham,  and 
John  of  Salisbury,  have  a  perfectly  marvelous  knowledge 
of  classical  fables.  In  a  Latin  poem  of  the  tenth  century 
the  author  names  Venus,  the  Fates,  and  Neptune;  a 
twelfth-century  poet  describes  a  contest  between  Gany¬ 
mede  and  Helen  on  the  subject  of  their  beauty.  In  the 
Middle  Ages,  too,  the  stories  of  Troy,  Alexander  the 
Great,  Hercules,  Jason,  the  PEneid,  Pharsalia,  and  the 
Thebaid  were  recast  in  the  vulgar  languages.  Marie  of 
France  and  others  put  into  renewed  circulation  the  old 
fables  of  yEsop  and  of  Phaedrus.  At  the  same  time, 
translations  multiplied,  and  in  the  thirteenth  century  a 
Frenchman  even  succeeded  in  translating  Justinian’s  In¬ 
stitutes  into  verse.  Of  the  medieval  men  who  had  a  truly 
astounding  knowledge  of  classical  antiquity,  John  of 
Salisbury  was  the  foremost.  Of  the  many  others  who 
might  be  named,  Vincent  of  Beauvais  should  be  men¬ 
tioned  for  his  citation,  in  his  Mirror  of  Nature,  of  three 
hundred  and  fifty  authors. 

The  classical  knowledge  of  the  medieval  writers  is, 
however,  what  may  be  called  external;  it  is  restricted  to 
the  letter,  and  is  not  penetrated  by  the  spirit  of  antiquity. 
There  is  hardly  one  of  them  who  does  not,  in  speaking  of 
the  classical  writers,  fall  into  grievous  errors  and,  at 
times,  into  rank  absurdities.  John  of  Salisbury  makes 
two  distinct  persons  out  of  Suetonius  and  Tranquillus, 
and  Vincent  of  Beauvais  likewise  divides  Sophocles  into 

299 


Medieval  Civilization 


two,  unites  the  two  Senecas  into  one,  makes  Cicero  an 
army  captain,  and  writes  Scalpurnus  for  Calpurnius. 
Others,  less  erudite,  fall  into  even  more  serious  mistakes. 
Alars  of  Cambrai,  author  of  a  treatise  on  the  morals  of 
philosophers,  believes  Tully  and  Cicero,  Vergil  and  Maro, 
to  be  distinct  persons.  Ranulf  Higden  styled  Plautus 
rhetorician  and  doctor. 

When  such  errors  as  these  were  possible,  imagination, 
which  in  all  ages  willingly  exercises  itself  upon  matters 
of  which  men  have  no  certain  and  direct  knowledge,  had 
full  play.  The  great  writers  of  antiquity,  present  always 
to  the  memory  of  the  Middle  Ages,  were  unable  to  with¬ 
draw  themselves  from  its  grasp.  The  Middle  Ages  had 
their  books,  but  few  details  of  their  lives,  and  the  greater 
the  admiration  they  evoked,  the  more  irresistible  was  the 
temptation  to  resort  to  fiction.  Frequently,  too,  a  common 
idea,  a  moral  precept  expressed  in  the  form  of  a  parable 
or  otherwise,  was  attached  to  the  name  of  a  great  pagan, 
without  other  motive  than  the  desire  to  procure  for  it 
a  wider  circulation  and  greater  credit.  It  was  in  this  way 
that  Socrates,  Plato,  Hippocrates,  Aristotle,  Vergil,  and 
others  entered  into  legends  more  or  less  suitable,  accord¬ 
ing  to  circumstances,  to  their  characters ;  and,  consider¬ 
ing  the  number  of  fancies  which  secured  circulation  in 
this  way,  it  is  not  surprising  that  some  are  very  extrava¬ 
gant.  Homer  generally  passed  for  a  liar  who  either  did 
not  understand  aright  or  else  deliberately  misstated  the 
facts  of  the  Trojan  war.  Socrates,  whose  name  was  be¬ 
lieved  to  mean  observer  of  justice,  had  two  wives  who  beat 
him  so  severely  one  day  that  he  nearly  died.  Elsewhere 
he  is  made  out  to  be  a  Roman,  and  to  him  the  council  of 


300 


Latin  Classics 


the  Eternal  City  entrust  the  duty  of  making  a  response 
to  a  Greek  embassy  requesting  liberation  from  tribute. 
In  the  Gesta  Romanorum  it  is  related  that  the  emperor 
Claudius  gave  his  own  daughter  in  marriage  to  Socrates 
on  condition  that  if  she  should  die  her  husband  should 
suffer  death,  and  Socrates  almost  had  to  pay  the  penalty. 
Plato’s  name  meant  task  or  account.  He  was  fond  of 
desert  places,  and  when  he  lifted  up  his  voice  he  could 
be  heard  two  miles  off.  He  was  one  of  the  greatest  physi¬ 
cians  of  antiquity  and  was  very  rich.  One  day  Diogenes 
went  to  Plato’s  house,  and  seeing  the  magnificent  beds 
which  it  contained,  forthwith  proceeded  to  soil  the  purple 
covers  with  his  muddy  feet.  On  leaving  the  house  he 
said  to  Plato :  “  Thus  is  your  pride  brought  low  by  the 
pride  of  another.”  Plato  then  retired  with  his  followers 
to  a  pestilential  desert  spot,  “  in  order  that  the  roughness 
of  the  place  might  destroy  the  desire  for  fleshly  luxury.” 
According  to  some,  he  died  because  he  could  not  solve  a 
riddle  which  had  been  propounded  to  him.  Aristotle 
means  perfect  in  goodness.  Some  believed  him  to  be  the 
son  of  the  devil,  but  he  “  did  not  act  contrary  to  theology,” 
and  when  about  to  die  he  asked  that  his  books  might  be 
buried  with  him,  lest  Antichrist  should  use  them.  Some 
say  that  he  died  because  he  could  not  understand  the  ebb 
and  flow  of  the  sea.  “  Since  I  cannot  comprehend  you,” 
he  is  reported  to  have  said,  “  you  shall  comprehend  me,” 
and  he  cast  himself  into  the  water.  The  Latin  writers  had 
equally  strange  things  told  concerning  them.  In  fact,  the 
pagan  philosophers  and  poets  were  generally  held,  because 
of  their  wisdom,  to  be  astrologers,  and  not  a  few  of  them 
passed  for  magicians.  Marvelous  virtues  were  ascribed 

301 


Medieval  Civilization 

to  some  of  their  books.  Even  in  the  classical  period  Ver¬ 
gil’s  books  were  consulted  as  oracles,  and  the  first  passage 
lighted  upon  in  one  of  his  books  was  accepted  as  an  oracu¬ 
lar  response.  The  use  of  these  “  Vergilian  lots  ”  con¬ 
tinued  throughout  the  Middle  Ages,  although  the  Bible 
and  the  Lives  of  the  Saints  were  consulted  in  the  same 
way.  .Eneas  Sylvius  Piccolomini  (Pope  Pius  II)  relates 
in  the  fifteenth  century  that  Alphonso  of  Aragon,  king 
of  Naples,  was  cured  of  a  grave  malady  by  reading  Quin¬ 
tus  Curtius. 

Another  medieval  fancy  well  worth  mentioning  con¬ 
sisted  in  the  attribution  of  Christian  qualities  to  ancient 
writers.  This  not  only  satisfied  a  sentiment  sufficiently 
natural  in  those  who  could  not  but  admire  illustrious 
pagans,  but  it  had  practical  uses,  for  it  turned  aside  the 
aversion  of  the  Church,  and  eased  the  scruples  of  timid 
consciences.  The  Church  could  no  longer  reasonably 
prohibit,  nor  should  believers  any  longer  fear,  the  reading 
of  an  ancient  writer,  when  this  writer  passed  for  a  Chris¬ 
tian.  The  legends  in  which  such  fancies  appeared  were 
readily  believed,  and  the  Church  had  no  great  interest 
in  giving  the  lie  to  them,  since  she  could  not  but  be 
pleased  at  the  multiplication  of  testimonies  to  the  truth 
from  the  most  celebrated  pagans.  In  every  age  notable 
ecclesiastical  writers  admitted  that  even  before  the  birth 
of  Christ  some  of  the  pagan  elect  had  been  able,  through 
divine  grace,  to  have,  as  it  were,  a  presentiment  of  the 
redemption  and  an  anticipatory  knowledge  of  the  greater 
truths  of  the  faith.  Justin  Martyr,  in  the  first  Apology, 
represents  Socrates,  Plato,  and  other  philosophers  of  an¬ 
tiquity  as  propagators  and  followers  of  the  one  true  faith. 

302 


Latin  Classics 


St.  Ambrose,  St.  Augustine,  and  St.  John  Chrysostom 
thought  that  Socrates  was  saved.  St.  Thomas  admitted 
that  some  of  the  pagan  philosophers  had  held  the  faith 
implicitly.  Plato  gained  most  from  this  sentiment,  for 
many  of  the  Fathers  were  instinctively  attracted  by  his 
doctrines.  St.  Augustine,  in  one  place  in  the  City  of  God, 
confutes  the  opinion  that  Plato  had  known  Jeremiah,  or 
read  the  prophetic  Scriptures,  although  he  himself  had 
previously  held  this  view.  He  admits  that  Plato  divined 
the  Trinity.  The  same  concession  was  made  to  Aristotle. 
Abelard  admitted  that  many  of  the  truths  of  Christianity 
had  been  known,  in  anticipation,  to  ancient  philosophers. 
In  a  twelfth-century  poem  the  philosopher  Aristotle  is 
said  to  have  trained  up  Alexander  the  Great  in  the  Chris¬ 
tian  faith.  Socrates  is  not  said,  directly,  to  have  been  a 
Christian,  but  it  is  stated  that  he  died  because  he  would 
not  adore  idols. 

Vergil’s  wisdom  was  so  great — he  was  regarded  as  the 
most  authoritative  and  legitimate  representative  of  the 
ancient  culture — that  it  was  not  difficult  to  persuade  me¬ 
dieval  lovers  of  his  works  that*  he  had  foreknowledge  of 
the  coming  of  Christ.  It  could  not  be  admitted  that  such 
a  man  as  he,  versed  in  all  knowledge,  even  the  most  hid¬ 
den,  could  remain  entirely  ignorant  of  the  event  which 
was  to  renew  the  world.  Add  to  this  the  common  ten¬ 
dency  which  led  men  to  admit  that  not  a  few  of  the  an¬ 
cients,  either  through  special  grace  of  heaven  or  through 
the  peerless  qualities  of  their  own  intellects,  had  divined 
some  part  of  the  truths  of  Christianity,  and  it  will  not  be 
difficult  to  understand  how  the  sibylline  verses  of  the 
fourth  Eclogue,  where  Vergil  speaks  of  the  birth  of  a 

303 


Medieval  Civilization 

divine  youth  and  of  the  purification  of  the  world,  could 
be  considered  as  a  prophecy  of  the  birth  of  Christ  and  of 
the  diffusion  of  the  new  faith.  Lactantius  admitted  that 
Vergil  announced  the  coming  of  Christ,  and  this  opinion, 
contradicted  by  St.  Jerome  and,  later,  by  St.  Isidore,  is 
held  by  St.  Augustine,  and  commonly  accepted  through¬ 
out  the  Middle  Ages. 

According  to  another  opinion  Vergil  was  actually  a 
Christian.  Jean  d’Outremeuse,  who  also  makes  Vergil  a 
Roman  lawgiver,  says  that  he  announced  to  the  Roman 
senate  the  advent  and  the  passion  of  Christ,  taught  the 
doctrine  of  the  Trinity  to  certain  Egyptians,  declared  the 
true  faith,  and  was  baptized  in  the  hour  of  death.  Long 
before  Jean  wrote,  however,  there  were  loving  souls  who 
could  not  believe  that  the  good  and  gentle  Vergil  was  lost. 
In  the  life  of  St.  Cadoc  of  Wales,  who  flourished  in  the 
sixth  century,  it  is  recorded  that  he  was  once  walking  in 
company  with  St.  Gildas  upon  the  sea-shore.  He  carried 
a  volume  of  Vergil  under  his  arm,  in  which  he  was  accus¬ 
tomed  to  instruct  his  pupils,  and  wept  in  silence.  “  Why 
weepest  thou  ?  ”  said  St.  Gildas.  “  I  weep,”  he  replied, 
“  because  the  author  of  this  book,  which  I  love  and  which 
gives  me  such  lively  pleasure,  is  perchance  damned  for¬ 
ever.”  “Without  a  doubt,”  answered  St.  Gildas;  “God 
does  not  judge  these  story-tellers  differently  from  other 
men.”  At  this  moment  a  gust  of  wind  caught  the  book 
and  bore  it  into  the  sea.  Great  was  the  consternation  of 
St.  Cadoc,  and  he  took  a  vow  never  more  to  eat  or  drink 
until  it  was  revealed  to  him  what  fate  God  vouchsafes  to 
those  who  sing  in  this  world  as  the  angels  sing  in  heaven. 
Immediately  on  going  to  sleep  he  heard  a  sweet  voice 

304 


Latin  Classics 


which  said :  “  Pray,  pray  for  me ;  do  not  cease  to  make 
intercession  that  I  may  be  permitted  to  celebrate  in  eternal 
song  the  compassion  of  the  Lord.”  The  following  day 
the  saint  found  his  volume  of  Vergil  in  the  body  of  a 
salmon.  The  poet  was  undoubtedly  saved.  In  a  similar 
manner,  Josephus,  Terence,  Seneca,  Lucan,  Statius,  and 
Pliny  the  Younger  were  asserted  to  be  Christians,  and 
many  of  the  ancients  were  regarded  as  having  announced 
the  incarnation  of  the  Word  and  the  birth  of  the  Re¬ 
deemer. 

Some  of  those  who  did  not  believe  in  the  orthodoxy  of 
the  pagan  writers  had  a  way  of  excusing  them  and  of 
rendering  the  perusal  of  their  books  plausible  by  asserting 
that  in  them  were  to  be  found,  under  the  veil  of  fables 
and  poetic  ornaments,  the  profoundest  moral  truths.  Not 
a  few  of  them  allegorized  even  the  obscene  stories  of 
Ovid  in  such  a  way  as  to  vindicate  the  morality  of  the 
writer.  Allegory  was  at  least  a  veil  which,  if  it  did  not 
conceal  the  nakedness  of  the  written  word,  disguised  it 
somewhat,  and  permitted  thoughtful  men  to  gaze  upon  it 
without  being  scandalized.  Christian  thinking  and  opin¬ 
ion  leaned  naturally  toward  allegory  and  symbolism.  At 
the  very  beginnings  of  Christianity  we  find  the  art  of  the 
catacombs  wholly  symbolical ;  the  liturgy  of  the  Church 
is  a  complicated  system  of  allegories  and  symbols.  It  was 
not  long  before  two  senses  were  distinguished  in  the 
Scriptures,  the  literal  and  the  mystic,  and  the  mystic  was 
subdivided  into  anagogical,  allegorical,  and  moral.  Ac¬ 
cording  to  William  of  Occam,  the  Gospels  have  four 
senses,  historical,  allegorical,  tropological,  and  anagogical. 
Exaggerating  this  tendency,  the  medieval  men  finally  in-- 

305 


Medieval  Civilization 


terpreted  all  history  allegorically,  and  conceived  nature 
as  nothing  but  an  immense  system  of  signs  and  symbols 
of  the  supernatural.  Poetry,  too,  was  ultimately  regarded 
as  a  nobler  and  more  subtle  language,  whose  principal 
office  was  to  veil,  in  seemly  forms,  the  august  truths  of 
theology  and  morals.  To  Alain  de  Lille  poetry  is  recon¬ 
dite  truth  hidden  under  an  exterior  of  falsehood.  At  the 
threshold  of  the  Renaissance,  Dante  and  Petrarch  still 
believed  that  the  spirit  of  poetry  was  essentially  to  be 
found  in  the  allegory.  The  high  opinion  of  the  wisdom 
of  the  pagans,  which  was  universal  in  the  Middle  Ages, 
caused  men  to  believe  that  the  most  sublime  truths  were 
secreted  in  their  verses. 

Such  wisdom  being  attributed  to  the  poets,  it  is  not  sur¬ 
prising  that  they  were  frequently  ranked  with  the  phi¬ 
losophers.  Alars  of  Cambrai,  in  his  Romance  of  All  the 
Philosophers,  places  Terence,  Lucan,  Perseus,  Horace, 
Juvenal,  Ovid,  Sallust,  Vergil,  and  Macrobius  among  the 
philosophers,  and  such  confusion  of  poets  and  historians 
with  philosophers  was  especially  common  in  those  medie¬ 
val  treatises  which  purported  to  give  the  flowers  of  an¬ 
cient  wisdom.  He  who  was  not  too  prone  to  discover  an 
allegorical  meaning  in  the  verses  of  the  poets  could  not, 
especially  if  he  were  rather  austere  in  his  religious  senti¬ 
ments,  avoid  making  a  certain  difference  between  poets 
and  philosophers  and  esteeming  the  latter  the  higher  in 
dignity.  The  attitude  of  the  Church  toward  the  pagan 
philosophers  was  not  always  consistent,  but,  generally 
speaking,  philosophic  proof  was  regarded  as  repugnant 
to  the  genius  of  Christianity,  which  is  founded  entirely 
upon  faith.  St.  Augustine,  at  first  enthusiastic  over  the 

306 


Latin  Classics 


Greek  philosophers,  ended  by  renouncing  them.  He  de¬ 
clared  that  the  Greek  philosophers  were  much  more  wor¬ 
thy  of  laughter  than  of  confutation,  and  said  that  the  only 
true  philosophy  was  the  true  faith.  Athanasius  the  Great 
confessed  that  the  more  he  speculated  upon  the  divinity 
of  Christ  the  less  he  believed  it,  and  he  admonished 
men  to  believe  without  seeking  to  prove.  In  1228 
Pope  Gregory  IX  exhorted,  the  doctors  of  the  univer¬ 
sity  of  Paris  to  cease  adulterating  the  divine  word 
with  the  fictions  of  the  philosophers.  St.  Bernard 
called  the  philosophers  vain  and  curious,  and  a  hun¬ 
dred  others  held  the  same,  or  an  even  worse,  opinion 
of  them.  The  desire  to  use  logic  overmuch  imperiled  the 
soul.  This  idea  is  illustrated  by  the  story  of  the  scholar 
who  appeared  after  death  to  his  former  master,  bearing 
upon  his  back  a  hood  filled  to  the  top  with  sophisms.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  had  already  been  recognized,  even  by 
the  early  apologists,  that  pagan  philosophy  contained 
some  germs  of  truth,  and  it  is  certain  that  Pythagorism, 
Platonism,  and  Stoicism  have  some  marked  affiliations 
with  Christianity.  Abelard  asserted  that  Christianity  was 
nothing  but  a  popularization  of  the  esoteric  doctrines  of 
the  ancient  philosophers.  The  pagans  Plato  and  Aris¬ 
totle  governed  Christian  thinking,  and  they  and  other 
ancient  worthies  were  spoken  of  with  profound  admira¬ 
tion  in  the  Middle  Ages.  In  the  twelfth  and  the  thirteenth 
centuries  the  reputation  of  the  philosophers — especially 
of  Aristotle— increased  beyond  measure  and  obscured  that 
of  the  poets. 

It  is  most  important  to  grasp  the  distinction  made  be¬ 
tween  the  philosophers  who  had  divined  some  part  of 

307 


Medieval  Civilization 

revealed  truth  and  the  poets  who  had  decked  out  the  er¬ 
rors  of  heathenism  with  all  the  seductions  of  art.  Abe¬ 
lard,  so  generous  toward  the  philosophers,  was  particu¬ 
larly  hard  on  the  poets.  One  of  the  miniatures  which 
accompanied  the  original  manuscript  of  Herrad  of  Lands- 
perg’s  twelfth-century  Garden  of  Delights  throws  an 
instructive  light  on  this  distinction.  In  this  miniature 
the  seven  arts  were  represented  by  seven  women,  within 
two  concentric  circles.  In  the  smaller  circle  a  crowned 
figure,  seated  upon  a  throne,  represented  the  Holy 
Spirit.  In  his  hands  he  bore  a  Latin  scroll  with  the 
motto :  “  All  wisdom  is  of  God.  The  wise  alone  are 
able  to  accomplish  their  desires.”  The  crown,  upon 
which  three  heads,  entitled  Ethics,  Logic,  and  Physics, 
appeared,  bore  the  inscription,  “  Philosophy.”  To  the 
right  of  the  Holy  Spirit  appeared  the  legend :  “  Seven 
fountains  of  wisdom  flow  from  philosophy,  and  are  known 
as  the  liberal  arts  ” ;  on  the  left :  “  The  Holy  Spirit  is  the 
author  of  the  seven  liberal  arts,  which  are  Grammar, 
Rhetoric,  Dialectics,  Music,  Arithmetic,  Geometry,  and 
Astronomy.”  Beneath  the  Holy  Spirit  were  the  figures 
of  Socrates  and  Plato,  accompanied  by  the  saying : 
“  Philosophy  teaches  the  knowledge  of  the  universal  na¬ 
ture  of  things ;  philosophers  teach  first  ethics,  then 
physics,  and  lastly  rhetoric ;  philosophers  were  the  wise 
men  of  the  world  and  the  clergy  of  the  Gentiles.”  Outside 
of  the  two  circles  devoted  to  the  realm  of  the  seven  arts 
were  four  figures  which  represented  “  poets  or  magicians 
full  of  the  unclean  spirit.”  At  the  ear  of  each  whispered 
a  crow,  emblem  of  the  devil,  the  inspirer  of  perverse  doc¬ 
trines.  Associated  with  the  four  was  this  saying : 

308 


Latin  Classics 


“  These,  inspired  by  unclean  spirits,  write  magic  art  and 
poetry,  that  is,  fabulous  commentaries.” 

This,  like  similar  opinions  held  throughout  the  Middle 
Ages,  called  forth  by  a  faith  too  narrow  and  too  distrust¬ 
ful,  could  not  prevail  against  the  sentiment  of  the  ma¬ 
jority,  and  against  common  practice  and  tradition.  The 
fables  of  the  poets  were  so  attractive  that  alone  they  would 
have  been  able  to  conquer  every  religious  and  moral  re¬ 
pugnance  ;  but  ingenious  legend  lent  her  aid  and  with 
pious  deception  sought  the  reconciliation  of  the  poets  with 
the  Church,  and  opened  to  the  pagans  the  portals  of 
heaven. 


309 


The  Development  of  the  Romance 
Languages,  Especially  Those 
of  France 

Adapted  from  Darmesteter :  Cours  de  gramniaire  historique 
de  la  langue  frangaise,  fourth  edition,  pp.  10-42. 

THE  French  language,  like  Portuguese,  Spanish,  Pro- 
vengal, Italian, Ladin  (spoken  in  the  western  Tyrol), 
and  Rumanian,  has  been  derived,  through  a  long  series 
of  transformations,  from  Latin,  the  language  of  the  Ro¬ 
mans. 

The  Latin  language  underwent  tremendous  changes 
before  it  attained  the  perfection  it  enjoyed  under  Cicero, 
Livy,  Tacitus,  Lucretius,  Vergil,  and  Horace.  At  all 
times  there  was  a  more  or  less  marked  divergence  be¬ 
tween  the  spoken  and  the  written  language,  but  the  varia¬ 
tion  was,  on  the  whole,  slight  during  the  republic  and 
the  empire. 

The  fifth  century,  however,  witnessed  a  distinct  decline 
in  Latin  literature  and  Roman  greatness,  and  accompany¬ 
ing  this  decline  a  rapid  and  independent  development  of 
spoken  Latin  took  place.  Many  constructions,  many 
forms  and  words,  which  literary  Latin,  in  the  days  of 
Rome’s  greatness,  had  been  too  haughty  or  too  conserva¬ 
tive  to  adopt,  now  triumphed  completely ;  and  as  numbers 

310 


The  Romance  Languages 

lay  down  the  law  in  matters  of  language,  and  as  the  plebs 
formed  the  great  majority  of  the  nation,  the  ways  of 
speaking  which  were  current  with  the  multitude  now 
dominated.  It  is  from  this  changing  popular,  or  vulgar, 
Latin  that  the  Romance  tongues  sprang;  it  would,  per¬ 
haps,  be  more  accurate  to  say  that  they  are  vulgar  Latin, 
in  its  modern  stages  of  development. 

There  was  a  remarkable  uniformity  in  the  vulgar  Latin 
spoken  from  the  Black  Sea  to  the  Atlantic,  and  from  the 
banks  of  the  Rhine  to  Mount  Atlas ;  the  grammar,  syn¬ 
tax,  and  vocabulary  were  essentially  the  same.  The 
pronunciation,  of  course,  varied  from  place  to  place.  The 
peoples  of  different  races  who  had  adopted  Latin  had 
forgotten  their  original  tongues,  but  they  could  not  dis¬ 
card  their  peculiarities  of  pronunciation. 

Gradually,  and  under  the  action  of  complex  causes,  lin¬ 
guistic  varieties  assumed  form.  The  most  rapid  and 
most  characteristic  modifications,  those  which  gave  to 
each  country  its  own  peculiar  language,  took  place  in  the 
seventh,  or  at  latest  in  the  eighth,  century.  Certain  words 
were  in  much  more  common  use  in  one  region  than  in 
another ;  words  fully  alive  here  were  quite  unknown  or 
forgotten  there ;  pronunciation  took  on  a  more  marked 
character  according  to  time  and  place,  and  syntax  adopted 
slightly  diverging  constructions. 

If,  however,  we  consider  their  common  characteristics 
rather  than  their  differences,  if  we  notice  that  they  have 
practically  the  same  vocabulary,  declensions,  and  conju¬ 
gations,  the  same  usages  in  composition  and  derivation, 
and  the  same  syntax,  then  the  Romance  languages  are 
seen  to  be  different  aspects  of  one  and  the  same  language, 

3i  i 


Medieval  Civilization 


varying  from  one  another  only  as  the  blossoms  of  flowers 
planted  in  different  soils  on  the  same  estate. 

Each  of  the  Romance  languages  retained,  as  its  own 
property,  independently  of  the  others,  the  name  Roman, 
which  the  people  of  Rome  gave  to  their  language.  Even 
to-day  the  name  is  borne  by  the  Rumanian  and  the 
Ladin,  or  Romanche;  Provengal  is  called  the  Roman 
tongue,  and  the  Provengal  people  think  that  their  lan¬ 
guage  has  a  special  right  to  the  name. 

In  the  Middle  Ages,  Italian,  Spanish,  Portuguese,  and 
French  were  often  designated  by  the  name  Roman.  In 
Old  French  to  translate  from  Latin  into  Roman  meant  to 
translate  into  French.  The  word  Roman  meant  a  lite¬ 
rary  composition  in  the  vulgar  tongue,  and  the  Roman  de 
la  Rose  was  the  French  poem  of  the  rose,  and  the  Roman 
de  Renard,  the  French  poem  of  the  fox.  Thus  the  word 
Roman,  or  Romance,  which  was  everywhere  retained  by 
the  various  idioms  sprung  from  the  Latin,  bears  irre¬ 
futable  testimony  to  the  original  unity  of  these  languages. 

Each  of  them  is  a  Romance  tongue  but  not  the  Ro¬ 
mance  tongue.  Romance,  or  Roman,  strictly  speaking,  is 
the  vulgar  Latin  which  was  spoken  in  the  empire  from 
the  third  to  the  seventh  or  eighth  century.  According  to 
the  region  in  which  it  was  spoken,  it  bears  the  names 
Gallo-Roman,  Hispano-Roman,  Italo-Roman — the  vulgar 
Latin  spoken  during  this  period  in  Gaul,  Spain,  and  Italy 
respectively.  This  vulgar  Latin  was  a  spoken  language, 
and  it  must  be  distinguished  from  the  written  Latin  of 
the  same  period,  which  is  known  as  Low  Latin. 

Low  Latin  is  the  literary  Latin  which  was  written  by 
more  or  less  ignorant  people,  and  it  is  marred  by  faults 

312 


The  Romance  Languages 

springing  from  their  spoken  language,  much  as  the  Latin 
of  a  school-boy  to-day  is  marred  by  solecisms  and  bar¬ 
barisms  from  his  native  tongue.  In  Merovingian  times 
Low  Latin  was  modeled  almost  wholly  upon  the  spoken 
language  of  the  time,  except  by  the  Church  Fathers,  and 
it  offers  a  picture  of  the  most  complete  barbarism,  which, 
however,  makes  it  peculiarly  interesting  to  the  linguistic 
student,  since  it  enables  him  to  discover,  behind  its  bar¬ 
baric  forms,  what  the  spoken  language  of  the  time  was.1 
The  Carolingian  Renaissance  did  something  to  purify  this 
corrupted  Latin.  All  the  lettered  people  of  the  Middle 
Ages  wrote  Low  Latin.  There  are,  of  course,  marked 
differences  between  Low  Latin  and  Classical  Latin.  The 
vocabulary  of  the  former  is  modified,  for  it  had  to  express 
ideas  unknown  to  ancient  Rome ;  it  is,  in  fact,  the  expres¬ 
sion,  by  an  intelligent  minority,  of  a  new  and  very  com¬ 
plex  civilization.  Its  grammar  and  particularly  its  syntax 
were  influenced  by  the  spoken  language,  but  it  had  fixed 
rules  of  its  own.  It  finally  disappeared  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  before  the  efforts  of  the  Humanists,  who,  taking 
Cicero  as  their  model,  restored  to  honor  the  language  of 
the  great  classics  of  Rome. 

Let  us  now  consider  the  history  of  the  Gallo-Roman 
group  of  Romance  tongues.  It  will  serve  as  a  type. 

The  vulgar  Latin  of  the  Gauls  destroyed  their  Celtic 
tongue,  for  the  Gauls,  once  conquered,  were  sufficiently 
intelligent  and  sufficiently  advanced  in  civilization  to 
recognize  the  intellectual  and  moral  superiority  of  Rome, 

‘Compare  the  Low  Latin  Vindcdi  ad  illo  campello  ferente  mo- 
dius  tantus  with  the  classical  form,  Vendidi  ad  ilium  campellum 
ferentem  modios  tantos. 


313 


Medieval  Civilization 

and  to  take  advantage  of  it.  They  threw  themselves  ar¬ 
dently  into  the  process  of  Romanization,  and  the  methods 
of  Roman  government  really  facilitated  the  work.  Gaul 
was  the  most  thoroughly  Romanized  part  of  the  empire, 
outside  of  Italy.  Under  Augustus  1200  men  sufficed  for 
the  defense  of  Gaul,  while  15,000  were  required  in  Brit¬ 
ain,  and  45,000  on  the  German  border.  Gallic  civilization 
disappeared  as  by  enchantment  before  the  Roman,  and 
with  the  civilization  went  the  language,  which,  after  all, 
was  close  kin  to  the  Latin.  A  critical  examination  of 
the  Celtic  element  in  French  shows  that  French  possesses 
only  a  few  words  of  Gallic  origin,  and  these  entered, 
moreover,  not  directly,  but  through  the  vulgar  Latin. 
Gallic  pronunciation  left  traces  in  the  Gallo-Roman  pro¬ 
nunciation,  but  the  grammar— and  grammar  is  the  funda¬ 
mental  element  of  all  languages — was  without  influence. 
The  grammar  which  we  find  in  early  French,  Italian, 
Spanish,  etc.,  is  the  same  grammar ;  in  each  case  it  is  de¬ 
rived  from  the  vulgar  Latin. 

The  existence  of  the  Gallic  tongues  up  to  the  fourth 
century  is  established.  Latin  conquered  the  cities  first, 
then  gradually  subdued  the  country,  leaving  to  the  in¬ 
digenous  tongue  vast  islets  of  territory  which  gradually 
succumbed.  At  the  moment  when  the  barbarian  inva¬ 
sions  began,  the  Gallic  speech  was  no  longer  to  be  heard 
in  any  part  of  Gaul ;  from  the  Mediterranean  to  the 
mouths  of  the  Rhine,  from  Port  Vendres  to  Antwerp, 
and  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Alps,  vulgar  Latin  had  sup¬ 
planted  it. 

The  barbarian  invasions  had  the  effect  of  restricting  in 
one  direction,  and  of  expanding  in  another,  the  territory 

314 


The  Romance  Languages 

of  Gallo-Roman.  The  Visigoths  in  Aquitaine,  the  Bur¬ 
gundians  in  Burgundy,  the  Salian  Franks  in  the  north¬ 
east,  and  the  Austrasian  Franks  in  the  east,  brought  in 
their  Germanic  idioms  with  them.  These  idioms  disap¬ 
peared,  after  a  time,  but  the  northern  and  eastern  fron¬ 
tiers  were  abandoned  by  the  Gallo-Roman  provincials, 
fleeing  before  the  invaders,  and  were  occupied  by  the 
Germans,  who  settled  down  and  spoke  a  Low  German  dia¬ 
lect  in  what  is  now  Flanders,  and  a  High  German  dialect 
in  modern  Alsace-Lorraine.  The  Anglo-Saxon  invasion 
of  Britain  drove  a  portion  of  the  British  population  to 
settle  in  the  lower  part  of  Armorica,  which  at  the  time  was 
depopulated,  and  thus  caused  a  Celtic  dialect  to  spring  up 
again  on  soil  which  had  witnessed  the  overthrow  of  the 
Gallic  at  the  hands  of  Latin.1  In  the  southwest,  the  in¬ 
vasions  of  the  Gascons,  who  crossed  the  Pyrenees  in  the 
sixth  century,  brought  into  Gaul  from  Spain  the  ancient 
tongue  of  the  Iberians,  which  Latin  had  previously  ex¬ 
pelled.  Lastly,  in  the  eighth  century  the  invasions  of  the 
Arabs  forced  the  Hispano-Romans  to  flee  toward  the 
north  and  leave  deserted  vast  regions  on  the  eastern  side 
of  the  Spanish  peninsula ;  and  Gallo-Romans  from  Rous¬ 
sillon  crossed  the  Pyrenees  to  occupy  the  land,  settled  in 
Catalonia,  the  province  of  Valencia,  and  the  Balearic  Isles, 
and  planted  there  a  Gallo-Roman  dialect  known  as  Cata¬ 
lan.  Such  were  the  changes  produced  in  the  territorial 

‘The  Celtic  languages  are  divided  into  three  branches:  (i) 
Gallic,  which  was  spoken  in  Gaul  and  disappeared  completely  in 
the  fourth  century;  (2)  the  Breton  idioms,  which  survive  in 
Lower  Brittany  and  in  Wales;  and  (3)  Gaelic,  which  includes 
(a)  Irish,  spoken  to-day  by  several  hundred  thousand  Irish 
peasants,  ( b )  Gaelic  proper,  spoken  in  several  parts  of  Scotland, 
and  (c)  the  dialect  of  the  Isle  of  Man. 

315 


Medieval  Civilization 


limits  of  Gallo-Roman  speech  by  the  barbarian  invasions, 
and,  with  minor  alterations,  these  limits  remain  to  this 
day. 

This  vast  domain  of  Gallo-Roman  used  one  language  at 
first.  But  as  century  succeeded  century  the  language 
underwent  successive  changes ;  it  became  diversified,  and 
developed  into  an  infinite  variety  of  local  speeches,  from 
south  to  north,  and  from  east  to  west.  Each  region  gave 
its  own  color,  its  own  peculiar  aspect,  to  the  Latin ;  and 
yet  no  sharply  defined  geographical  unities  of  language 
resulted,  for  the  various  characteristics  of  a  local  speech 
were  not  restricted  to  its  own  geographical  limits,  but 
radiated  in  various  directions,  affecting  in  a  variable  and 
more  or  less  profound  way  the  different  neighboring 
regions. 

The  changes — and  this  is  a  fact  of  capital  importance — 
were  produced  without  any  breach  of  continuity ;  and  if 
a  straight  line  should  be  drawn  from  any  point  in  France 
to  any  other,  it  would  be  found  that  the  local  speech  of 
the  first  would  be,  by  almost  imperceptible  and  yet  pro¬ 
gressive  modifications,  transformed  into  the  local  speech 
of  the  other.  Two  neighboring  speeches  understood  each 
other;  if  separated  by  a  third,  they  would  still  understand 
each  other,  but  with  difficulty ;  separated  by  several 
others,  they  would  be  mutually  unintelligible. 

Thanks  to  this  continuity  in  the  linguistic  transfor¬ 
mations,  the  various  speeches  of  a  province  exhibit  gen¬ 
eral  resemblances  as  well  as  specific  differences,  and  that 
is  why  we  have  been  able  to  give  them  the  name  of  the 
province  where  they  have  been  spoken,  as,  for  example, 
Gascon,  Languedocian,  and  Champenois.  But  it  must  al- 

3j6 


The  Romance  Languages 

ways  be  remembered  that  these  geographical  terms  desig¬ 
nate  not  a  linguistic  unity,  but  the  group  of  speeches 
employed  in  the  province,  considered  from  the  standpoint 
of  that  which  they  have  in  common.  Thus  vulgar  Latin, 
sowed  by  the  Roman  conquest  upon  the  soil  of  Gaul,  cov¬ 
ered  it  with  an  immense  linguistic  flora,  which,  develop¬ 
ing  with  the  utmost  freedom  in  the  different  districts, 
assumed  infinitely  divergent  forms. 

But  at  the  same  time  that  vulgar  Latin  was  abandoned 
to  itself  and  delivered  over  to  the  mysterious  activities 
which  direct  the  spontaneous  evolution  of  language,  and 
thus  was  enabled  to  blossom  into  a  multitude  of  local 
speeches,  other  forces,  political  and  social,  intervened  to 
reestablish  a  certain  unity  amid  this  endless  division. 

In  each  region,  one  of  the  local  speeches,  that  of  a  city 
or  an  aristocracy,  raised  itself  above  its  neighbors,  and, 
gaining  dignity,  threw  them  into  the  shade.  The  local 
speeches  which  were  cast  into  the  shade  are  patois;  those 
which  were  raised  to  literary  dignity  are  dialects. 

Thus  written  languages  were  formed  in  different  cen¬ 
ters,  which,  radiating  their  influence  round  about,  im¬ 
posed  themselves,  like  nobles,  upon  the  populations  of 
neighboring  regions,  and  created  a  linguistic  province,  a 
dialect,  in  which  the  local  patois  were  gradually  effaced 
or  smothered.  These  dialects  no  longer  expanded  by  oral 
tradition,  but  by  literary  activities ;  their  development  was 
not  a  fact  of  the  organic,  natural  life  of  the  idiom ;  it  was 
a  fact  of  civilization. 

In  this  new  linguistic  evolution,  the  dialects  differed 
from  one  another  in  proportion  as  they  were  separated 
by  more  numerous  patois  or  by  wider  geographical  dis- 

317 


Medieval  Civilization 


tances.  In  conflict  with  one  another,  they  took  on  a  more 
characteristic  physiognomy  and  became  independent  lan¬ 
guages. 

Thus  a  series  of  different  regional  idioms  was  formed 
in  France,  which  generally  go  by  the  name  of  the  prov¬ 
ince  in  which  they  have  flourished,  and  the  same  method 
is  followed  in  naming  the  group  of  patois  which  continue 
to  live  their  life  of  obscurity  in  the  same  province.  For 
example,  Norman  is  applied  to  the  dialect  employed  by 
the  Norman  writers  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  also  to  the 
mass  of  patois  which  lived  or  live  in  Normandy. 

If  the  dialects  and  patois  which  have  flourished  on 
French  soil  are  considered  as  a  whole,  it  will  be  at  once 
seen  that  they  fall  into  two  large  groups,  that  of  the  dia¬ 
lects  and  patois  of  the  langue  d’oc,  and  that  of  the  dialects 
and  patois  of  the  langne  d’oil.1 

Two  of  the  dialects  belonging  to  the  langne  d’oc  were 
considered  by  the  Middle  Ages  to  be  independent  lan¬ 
guages  :  Gascon  and  Catalan.  The  region  in  which  Gas¬ 
con  was  spoken  is  sufficiently  indicated  by  Gascony,  and 
the  home  of  Catalan  has  already  been  described.  Outside 
the  Gascon  and  Catalan  territories  are  the  Provencal 
dialects  and  patois,  which  cover,  wholly  or  in  part,  twenty- 
six  of  the  modern  departments  of  France,  and  which 
embrace  Limousin,  Languedocian,  Provencal  proper, 
Savoyard,  etc. 

1  It  was  the  medieval  custom  to  designate  languages  according 
to  the  word  employed  for  yes.  Langue  d’oc  means  the  language 
which  uses  oc  for  yes,  and  langue  d’oil,  the  one  which  uses  oil. 
The  phrases  also  serve  as  territorial  designations.  Thus  Dante 
calls  Italy  the  country  of  si: 

II  bel  paese  la  dove  il  s  i  suona. 

318 


The  Romance  Languages 

As  early  as  the  tenth  century  we  find  a  Provenqal  lit¬ 
erature,  and  there  is  extant  from  this  epoch  a  consid¬ 
erable  fragment  of  an  imitation  in  verse  of  Boethius’s 
Consolation  of  Philosophy.  The  twelfth  century  pro¬ 
duced  a  brilliant  literature,  largely  lyrical,  whose  authors 
call  themselves  troubadours.  It  disappeared  in  the  middle 
of  the  thirteenth  century,  drowned  in  the  blood  of  the 
Albigensian  crusade.  St.  Louis  tried  in  vain  to  repair 
the  evil  and  pacify  the  country ;  the  troubadours  left 
the  impoverished  land  and  the  abandoned  seignorial 
courts ;  they  went  to  Aragon  and  Italy  to  sing  their 
songs,  and  the  decadence  of  Provencal  literature  re¬ 
mained  unchecked. 

It  is  not  possible  to  determine  scientifically  the  border¬ 
line  between  the  dialects  of  the  langue  d’oc  and  the  dia¬ 
lects  of  the  langue  d’o'il,  for  the  simple  reason  that  the 
local  patois  of  the  two  languages  gradually  and  imper¬ 
ceptibly  shade  away  into  each  other.  But  on  the  basis  of 
a  small  number  of  striking  traits  an  approximate  line  may 
be  drawn. 

Let  us  cross  this  frontier  and  study  the  development  of 
vulgar  Latin  in  the  north  of  France.  Here,  as  early  as 
the  seventh  century,  this  vulgar  idiom  was  so  sharply 
marked  off  from  classical  Latin  and  Low  Latin  that  it 
was  recognized  as  a  new  language.  In  659  St.  Mum- 
molin  was  called  to  succeed  St.  Eloi  as  bishop  of  Noyon, 
because  “  he  was  proficient  not  only  in  the  German  tongue 
[spoken  by  the  conquerors],  but  also  in  the  Roman 
tongue  [spoken  by  the  people].”  In  the  next  century, 
Gerard,  abbot  of  Sauve-Majeure,  praises  his  master,  St. 
Adalhard,  abbot  of  Corbey,  for  his  knowledge  of  Ro- 

319 


Medieval  Civilization 

mance,  Latin,  and  German :  “  If  he  spoke  Roman,  one 
would  have  believed  that  he  knew  no  other  tongue ;  if  he 
spoke  German,  his  language  was  even  more  brilliant ;  but 
if  he  spoke  Latin,  it  was  perfection.”  We  possess  Latin- 
Romance  and  Romance-German  glossaries  from  this  cen¬ 
tury  in  which  Latin  and  German  words  are  translated  by 
Low  Latin  or  Romance  words  clearly  suggesting  French 
words.  In  the  ninth  century  the  councils  of  Tours  and 
Rheims  ordered  the  bishops  to  translate  the  Sunday  ser¬ 
mons  into  Romance  or  German,  so  that  they  might  be 
more  easily  understood  by  all. 

It  is  certain  that  from  the  early  ninth  century  the 
practice  of  writing  in  the  vulgar  tongue  was  common ; 
but  the  texts,  being  written  on  wax  tablets  or  bits  of 
parchment,  were  too  fragile  to  come  down  to  us.  We 
have,  however,  the  text  of  the  famous  Oaths  of  Stras- 
burg  (842),  which  were  so  important  that  they  were 
reproduced  by  Nithard,  a  celebrated  contemporary  his¬ 
torian.  They  appear  in  a  manuscript  copy  of  Nithard 
of  the  late  tenth  or  early  eleventh  century.  They  show 
that  the  main  traits  of  the  langue  d’o'il  were  already 
fixed,  although  this  text,  at  first  glance,  presents  a  Latin 
physiognomy. 

Passing  over  several  interesting  writings  from  the 
tenth  century,  we  come  to  the  eleventh  century,  when  lit¬ 
erary  works  of  the  first  rank  appeared.  The  Chanson  de 
Saint  Alexis  and,  a  little  later,  the  Chanson  de  Roland  are 
two  poems  which  form  a  worthy  opening  for  French  lit¬ 
erature.  At  the  end  of  the  century  came  the  Pilgrimage 
of  Charlemagne  to  Jerusalem,  a  most  curious  heroic-comic 
poem  in  which  freedom  from  constraint,  laughter,  and 

320 


The  Romance  Languages 

parody  are  joined,  without  effort,  to  a  lofty  style  and  an 
epic  movement. 

The  twelfth  century  is  the  golden  age  of  Old  French 
literature :  in  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries  it 
was,  although  marvelously  fertile  and  incomparably  rich, 
less  original. 

This  literature  was  not  peculiar  to  any  one  region ;  it 
extended  over  the  whole  domain  of  the  langue  d’oil,  and 
it  exhibits  linguistic  peculiarities  which  vary  from  prov¬ 
ince  to  province.  Each  dialect  had  its  literature.  In 
short,  the  langue  d’oil  may  be  divided,  on  the  principles 
explained  above,  into  as  many  dialects  as  there  are  lo¬ 
calities. 

Until  the  fourteenth  century  these  dialects  were  almost 
entirely  independent.  Roger  Bacon,  traveling  through 
France  about  1260,  states  that  French  is  divided  into  four 
dialects:  French,  Picard,  Norman,  and  Burgundian. 
Peire  Cardinal,  a  troubadour  of  the  thirteenth  century, 
says  that  he  can  speak  neither  Norman  nor  Poitevin. 
One  of  the  characters  in  the  Provengal  romance  Flamenco 
knew  how  to  speak  “  Burgundian  and  French,  German 
and  Breton.”  A  fourteenth-century  translator  of  the 
Psalms  who  wrote  in  Lorraine  announces  his  work  thus : 
“  This  is  a  translation  of  the  Psalms  from  Latin  into 
Romance— into  the  Lorraine  language.” 

The  independence  of  the  various  dialects  of  the  north 
was,  however,  threatened  quite  early.  In  the  very  bosom 
of  the  feudal  anarchy  of  the  eleventh  century  there  was 
arising,  in  the  Capetian  dynasty,  a  central  power  which 
was  in  time  to  displace  the  feudal  powers.  The  royal 
Capetian  house  took  its  rise  in  the  duchy  of  the  tie  de 

321 


Medieval  Civilization 


France,  and  had  its  seat  at  Paris.  The  royal  court  in¬ 
creased  the  dignity  of  the  dialect  which  it  used,  and 
gradually  imposed  this  upon  the  aristocracy  and  the 
writers.  From  the  twelfth  century  the  preeminence  of 
the  French  of  the  lie  de  France  was  assured,  and  the 
glory  of  the  monarchy  under  Philip  Augustus  and  St. 
Louis  definitely  guaranteed  its  ultimate  supremacy. 

About  1170  the  churchman  Gamier  boasts  that  he  has 
written  his  fine  poem  upon  the  life  and  death  of  Thomas 
Becket  “  in  good  Romance :  ”  “  My  language  is  good,  for 
I  was  born  in  the  lie  de  France.”  Conon  de  Bethune,  a 
great  lord  of  the  province  of  Artois,  and  a  poet  contem¬ 
porary  with  Philip  Augustus,  complains  that  he  had 
called  forth  the  jeers  of  the  young  king,  the  queen  mother, 
and  the  court,  by  reciting  before  them  one  of  his  chan¬ 
sons  with  a  local  accent  and  embellished  with  Artoisan 
words. 

Adenet,  the  author  of  Bertha  of  the  Big  Feet,  says  that 
it  was  the  custom,  in  the  days  of  Pepin,  for  the  German 
nobility  to  have  Frenchmen  at  their  court  to  teach  their 
children  French,  and  then  he  goes  on  to  say  that  the  king, 
the  queen,  and  Bertha  “  knew  French  almost  as  well  as  if 
they  had  been  born  in  the  burg  of  St.  Denis  ”  (Paris). 

The  trouvere  Aimon  de  Varennes,  who  wrote  in  1188 
at  Chatillon-sur-Rhone,  chose  French  for  his  Roman  de 
Florimont,  because  the  French  esteemed  his  language 
barbarous. 

A  translator  of  Boethius,  born  at  Meung  in  the  thir¬ 
teenth  century,  excuses  himself  for  writing  in  a  language 
which  did  not  possess  the  supreme  correctness  of  Pari¬ 
sian,  because  “  I  am  not  a  Parisian,  and  I  cling  to  the 

322 


The  Romance  Languages 

speech  which  my  mother  taught  me  at  Meung  when  she 
suckled  me.” 

In  the  fourteenth  century  Chaucer,  in  the  Prologue  to 
the  Canterbury  Tales,  introduces  a  nun  who  spoke 
“  Stratford  ”  French  because  she  was  ignorant  of  Parisian 
French : 


“  And  Frensh  she  spak  ful  faire  and  fetysly 
After  the  scole  of  Stratford  atte  Bowe, 

For  Frensch  of  Parys  was  to  hir  unknowe.” 

If  in  the  full  tide  of  the  fourteenth  century  writers  con¬ 
tinued  to  use  dialects  which  the  preceding  age  had  al¬ 
ready  pronounced  inferior,  it  is  nevertheless  certain  that 
these  dialects  had  begun  to  decline  and  give  place  to 
French,  the  official  language  of  the  royal  government,  the 
literary  language  of  the  pays  de  France,  and  the  language 
employed  by  the  upper  classes  in  conversation.  Hardly 
anywhere  outside  of  the  country  districts  did  the  local 
tongues  really  continue  to  live,  develop,  and  change,  in 
full  liberty.  With  the  passing  of  the  centuries  they  came 
to  differ  more  and  more  from  one  another,  and  assumed 
characteristic  traits— provided  they  were  not  crushed,  as 
were  the  various  patois  of  the  lie  de  France  and  its  envi¬ 
rons,  by  the  all-embracing  influence  of  the  French  of 
Paris.  Only  one,  the  Walloon,  survives  to-day  in  the  ter¬ 
ritories  of  the  langue  d’o'il,  in  part  of  Belgium. 

The  slow  and  uninterrupted  progress  of  the  French  of 
Paris  penetrated,  by  the  close  of  the  Middle  Ages,  all  the 
domains  of  the  langue  d’oil.  The  detailed  history  of  its 
conquests  is  yet  to  be  written,  but  the  main  outlines  are 
clear.  French  did  not  displace  the  various  dialects  with- 

323 


Medieval  Civilization 


out  being  affected  by  them  in  some  respects.  The  prov¬ 
inces  in  adopting  the  official  language  could  not  avoid 
intermingling  with  it  some  of  the  tricks  of  expression, 
constructions,  and  phrases  of  their  own  declining  patois, 
and  especially  their — what  for  want  of  a  better  name  may 
be  called— accent.  In  this  way  provincial  French  was 
formed,  each  province  having  its  own  distinctly  marked 
type.  In  spite  of  literary  education,  provincialisms  have 
remained  to  the  present  day,  coloring  frequently  the  con¬ 
versation  of  the  city  folk,  if  they  do  not  appear  in  the  work 
of  writers.  A  provincial,  however  close  to  Paris  his  home 
may  be,  can  be  told  among  a  thousand  by  his  accent. 

At  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century,  and  especially  in  the 
thirteenth,  after  the  Albigensian  war,  French  had  crossed 
the  frontiers  of  the  langue  d’oil  and  had  penetrated  into 
the  cities  of  southern  France,  following  the  royal  admin¬ 
istration.  We  have  already  noted  the  abandonment  by 
a  Lyonnais  writer  of  his  native  dialect  for  French. 
French  followed  the  advance  of  the  monarchy  in  the  four¬ 
teenth  and  fifteenth  centuries.  From  the  beginning  of 
the  sixteenth  century  the  great  cities  of  southern  France, 
Bordeaux,  Toulouse,  Montpellier,  Lyons,  Grenoble,  etc., 
furnished  French  works  to  literature.  In  another  way 
French  triumphed  at  the  close  of  the  Middle  Ages,  win¬ 
ning  the  victory  over  Low  Latin,  which  up  to  that  time 
had  been  the  official  language  of  justice  and  teaching. 
The  ordinance  of  Villers-Cotterets,  issued  by  Francis  I 
in  1539,  declared  that  “all  decrees  and  proceedings,  all 
judicial  acts  and  writs  and  matters  whatsoever,  shall  be 
pronounced,  registered,  and  delivered  to  the  parties  in  the 
French  mother-tongue,  and  not  otherwise,”  and  the  six- 

324 


The  Romance  Languages 

teenth  century  saw  also  the  appearance  of  philosophical 
and  scientific  educational  treatises  in  French.  Thus 
French  was  becoming  the  language  of  all  France — just 
as  the  idioms  of  Latium,  Florence,  and  Middlesex  became 
the  Latin,  Italian,  and  English  languages  respectively. 

And  yet,  in  spite  of  the  triumph  of  the  absolute  mon¬ 
archy,  in  spite  of  three  centuries  of  central  and  local  ad¬ 
ministration  which  has  known  no  language  save  that  of 
Paris,  in  spite  of  the  blossoming  of  a  literature  which  has 
raised  it,  in  the  common  estimation  of  mankind,  to  an  in¬ 
comparable  height,  French  has  not  yet  completed  the  con¬ 
quest  of  its  natural  territory.  Provenqal  is  still  spoken  in 
the  cities  of  southern  France,  and  in  the  greater  propor¬ 
tion  of  the  country  districts  of  the  langue  d’oil  the  local 
patois  are  still  employed — along  with  French;  in  the 
country  districts  of  southern  France  the  peasants  know 
hardly  anything  but  their  patois ;  and  the  Basque  and 
Lower  Brittany  regions  are  hardly  touched.  But,  with 
military  service  and  obligatory  primary  instruction,  the 
day  will  come  when  the  French  of  the  lie  de  France  will 
complete  its  conquest  of  France. 


325 


Evolution  of  the  German  Language 


Adapted  from  O.  Weise:  Unsere  Muttersprache, 
1897,  pp.  1-21,  34-35- 


HE  earliest  history  of  the  German  language,  and  the 


J.  origin  of  the  German  race,  are  alike  shrouded  in 
deep  obscurity.  Science,  indeed,  tells  us  that  the  Germans 
at  one  time  occupied  a  common  territory  with  the  Greeks 
and  Romans,  Celts  and  Slavs,  Lithuanians  and  Armeni¬ 
ans,  and  Hindus  and  Iranians ;  that  their  civilization  was 
virtually  the  same,  and  that  all  spoke  a  common  language. 
We  are  even  able  to  form  a  fairly  definite  idea  of  the  com¬ 
mon  vocabulary  of  these  peoples,  of  their  word-forma¬ 
tions,  inflections,  and  conjugations;  but  we  can  no  more 
determine  the  year  of  the  birth  of  the  German  language, 
than  we  can  tell  when  and  how  the  allied  peoples  broke 
apart  and  went  their  several  ways.  Not  until  the  morn¬ 
ing  glow  of  history  penetrates  the  mysterious  darkness 
which  brooded  over  the  land  of  our  forefathers,  does 
any  light  fall  upon  the  word-structure  of  their  language. 

Meanwhile,  several  thousands  of  years  elapsed.  The 
different  peoples  parted  company  and  spread  over  Europe 
and  southwestern  Asia.  The  Germans  split  up  into  sev¬ 
eral  tribes  and  dwelt  upon  the  shores  of  the  Baltic.  But, 
like  the  flowing  over  of  boiling  waters,  the  Germans 
drove  ever  onward,  under  the  overmastering  impulse  of 


326 


Evolution  of  the  German  Language 

their  ramble-loving  natures ;  and  the  German  language 
tore  at  the  bonds  of  form  imposed  by  remote  antiquity. 
The  consonants,  especially,  were  radically  transformed : 
bh,  gh,  and  dh  were  lost  to  the  aspirates ;  p,  k,  and  t  took 
the  place  of  b,  g,  and  d,  and  where  we  meet  p,  k,  and  t 
in  the  cognate  languages,  German  then  employed  f,  h, 
and  th. 

The  accent,  also,  was  rpaterially  changed.  In  the  primi¬ 
tive  language  the  stress  might  fall  upon  any  syllable 
whatsoever;  in  Latin  and  Greek  it  was  restricted  to  one 
of  the  last  three  syllables,  and  might  be  either  upon  the 
root  or  the  case-ending,  as  Roma,  Romani,  Romanorum. 
Our  old  ancestors  put  an  end  to  this  irresolution.  They 
placed  the  accent,  once  for  all,  on  the  syllable  most  essen¬ 
tial  to  the  word,  which  is  usually  the  stem,  as  That, 
th'dtig,  Thatigkeit,  Thdtigkeitstrieb. 

Thus  were  the  independence  and  originality  of  the 
German  language  declared ;  but  centuries  had  to  pass 
before  the  wandering  race  reached  its  final  dwelling- 
place.  Even  after  it  had  settled  down,  whole  bands 
frequently  went  forth  to  quench  their  thirst  for  war  in 
warmer  and  more  fruitful  regions.  In  the  second  cen¬ 
tury  b.c.  the  Cimbri  left  the  North  Sea  and  roved 
through  Germany,  Gaul,  and  Spain,  down  to  the  Italian 
peninsula.  In  Caesar’s  time  whole  swarms  of  Germans 
passed  over  the  middle  and  lower  Rhine  into  Gaul. 
About  150  a.d.  the  Goths  abandoned  the  neighborhood 
of  the  Vistula  and  wandered  in  a  southeasterly  direc¬ 
tion  to  the  mouth  of  the  Danube  and  the  shore  of  the 
Black  Sea ;  about  300  a.d.,  under  Hunnish  pressure,  they 
again  set  forth  and  traversed  nearly  all  Europe,  and, 

327 


Medieval  Civilization 


after  a  brief  and  not  inglorious  career,  were  destroyed 
as  a  separate  tribe  in  the  trituration  of  the  peoples.  Their 
name  still  survives  in  different  parts  of  Europe,  from 
Gotland  and  Goteborg  to  Gossensass  on  the  Brenner  and 
Catalonia  (Catalonien  =  Gotalanien:  Goths  and  Alans)  ; 
and  in  Ulfilas’s  translation  of  the  Bible  we  have  eloquent 
testimony  to  the  beauty  and  strength  of  their  language. 

Still  other  Germanic  peoples  were  seized  by  the  great 
forward  movement.  The  Burgundian  race  blazed  its 
burning  way  from  the  Baltic  coasts  ( Bornholm  —  Bur- 
gunderholm)  to  the  middle  Rhine,  and  later  to  the 
Saone ;  the  Lombards  passed  from  the  lower  Elbe 
( Bardezvik  =  [Lango\  Bardenort )  into  the  valley  of 
the  Po.  The  Alemannians  and  the  Bavarians  settled  be¬ 
tween  the  Alps  and  the  Danube ;  the  Franks  located  them¬ 
selves  on  the  Rhine  and  the  Main,  and  the  Thuringians 
chose  middle  Germany  as  their  abiding-place.  Swarms 
of  Angles,  Saxons,  and  Jutes  swept  across  the  Channel 
into  Britain,  or  moved  southward  from  their  former 
seats.  The  territory  left  vacant  by  the  Germans,  east  of 
the  Elbe,  was  joyfully  accepted  for  settlement  by  the 
advancing  Slavs.  The  Frisians  and  the  Hessians 
( Chatti )  were  the  only  considerable  Teutonic  tribes 
which  were  still  located,  after  the  Volkerwanderung,  in 
the  territories  which  they  had  held  in  the  days  of  Caesar 
and  of  Tacitus. 

When  the  billows  of  this  second  great  migration- 
flood  had  subsided,  it  was  unmistakably  manifest  that 
the  German  language  had  undergone  fundamental  trans¬ 
formations.  But  this  second  great  shifting  of  the  Ger¬ 
man  peoples,  unlike  the  first,  affected  only  a  portion  of 

328 


Evolution  of  the  German  Language 

the  German  tongues.  The  first  involved  similar  changes 
in  all  the  cognate  languages ;  the  latter  affected  different 
ones  unequally. 

This  newer  linguistic  movement  had  its  beginning,  so 
far  as  we  can  judge,  in  the  sixth  century,  and  continued 
its  development  until  the  eighth.  It  is  first  noticeable 
in  the  Alemannic  and  Bavarian  territories ;  then  it 
pressed  northward  into  middle  Germany,  with  decreas¬ 
ing  wave-force,  until  finally  it  was  shattered  on  the  im¬ 
movable  rock  of  the  Low  (north)  German  character.  It 
was  the  Saxons  who  so  carefully  protected  the  old  lan¬ 
guage  sounds  against  the  advancing  flood  of  linguistic 
innovation,  and  thus  added  to  the  existing  tribal  borders 
a  notable  language  frontier.  Hence,  with  High  (south) 
German  Waffe  and  Staffel,  we  have  the  Low  German 
Wappen  and  Stapel;  and,  similarly,  for  Lachen  and 
machen,  Laken  and  rnakeln,  and  for  Weissenburg, 
Schneeweisschen,  and  Altenberg,  Wittenberg,  S{ch)nee- 
wittchen,  and  Oldenburg.  In  fact,  if  the  German 
fatherland  to-day  falls  into  two  great  linguistic  halves, 
a  High  German  and  a  Low  German,  it  is  due  especially 
to  the  events  of  this  early  time.  The  linguistic  frontier 
has  shifted  somewhat,  in  the  course  of  centuries,  to  the 
advantage  of  High  German ;  but,  in  the  main,  the  pos¬ 
sessions  of  each  half  remain  unaltered.  The  frontier 
passed  through  Aachen,  Cologne,  Cassel,  Duderstadt, 
and  Aschersleben,  and  terminated  in  Barby,  at  the  junc¬ 
tion  of  the  Elbe  and  the  Saale,  where  it  touched  the  old 
border  between  German  and  Slav. 

Henceforward,  the  two  branches  of  the  German  tongue, 
the  High  and  the  Low,  developed  in  complete  indepen- 

329 


Medieval  Civilization 


dence  of  each  other.  Accordingly,  while  we  have  on  the 
one  hand  Old  High  German  (up  to  uoo),  Middle  High 
German  (up  to  1500),  and  modern  literary,  or  New  High, 
German  (up  to  the  present),  we  have,  on  the  other,  Old 
Low  German  (Old  Low  Frankish1),  Old  Saxon  and 
Old  Frisian,  Middle  Low  German  and  New  Low  Ger¬ 
man  (Plattdeutsch) .  In  England,  where  the  Norman 
Conquest  mingled  German  and  Romance,  the  English 
speech  grew  out  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  dialect.  In  the 
Scandinavian  lands,  Old  Norse  gave  way  to  her  daugh¬ 
ters,  Swedish,  Norwegian,  Icelandic,  and  Danish. 

Of  all  these  German  sisters,  High  German  has,  next  to 
English,  enjoyed  to  the  fullest  degree  the  influence  of 
Roman  and  Romance  culture.  Roman  merchants  and 
soldiers  early  appeared  on  the  Rhine  and  the  Danube, 
bearing  with  them  bales  of  strange  goods,  and  also  more 
precious  gifts — those  priceless  spiritual  wares  which 
helped  to  produce  in  those  regions,  quicker  than  else¬ 
where  in  the  German  lands,  a  more  refined  development 
of  mind  and  heart.  Here  the  seeds  of  the  Christian 
religion  were  first  planted,  and  the  Irish  and  Scottish 
monks,  zealous  for  the  faith,  scattered  them  broadcast. 
With  the  foundation  of  the  monasteries  by  the  mission¬ 
aries,  learning  and  poetry  made  their  entrance  into  Ger¬ 
many.  Many  of  the  writings  of  this  early  time  are,  of 
course,  lost  forever ;  but  enough  survives  to  enable  us 
to  declare,  with  certainty,  that  virtually  all  who  studied 

1  Old  Low  Frankish  has  since  developed,  owing  to  political  di¬ 
visions,  into  Middle  Low  Netherlandish,  Hollandish,  and  Flemish. 
But  in  the  sixteenth  century  the  Netherlanders  still  regarded 
themselves  as  German  (Deutsche) ,  and  that  is  the  reason  why 
Hollandish  is  still  called  Dutch  by  the  English-speaking  world. 

330 


Evolution  of  the  German  Language 

and  wrote  did  so  in  the  quiet  of  monastic  cells.  To  be 
sure,  little  independent  work  was  done.  The  most  im¬ 
portant  piece  of  intellectual  labor  performed  by  the  Visi- 
gothic  race  was  a  translation— the  translation  of  the 
Bible  by  Ulfilas.  The  pious  monks  of  St.  Gall  and  Reiche- 
nau,  of  Wessobrunn  and  Weissenburg,  restricted  their 
energies  in  large  part  to  the  “  Book  of  books,”  and  fre¬ 
quently  limited  themselves  to  translating  or  expounding, 
in  German,  what  the  Fathers  and  other  Christian  prede¬ 
cessors  had  written  in  Latin  or  in  Greek.  Even  the 
evangelical  compilations  of  an  Otfried  of  Weissenburg 
(ca.  870)  are,  from  the  standpoint  of  art,  only  slight 
performances.  The  chief  service  Otfried  rendered  was 
to  increase  the  respectability  of  the  despised  German,  by 
employing  it  in  poetical  compositions,  at  a  time  when 
Latin  still  dominated  in  the  Church  and  in  ecclesiastical 
affairs. 

Old  High  German,  however,  still  lacked  many  expres¬ 
sions,  especially  those  which  involved  Christian  ideas, 
and  industrious  monks,  like  Kero,  Notker  Labeo,  and 
Williram,  zealously  labored  to  enrich  it.  If  they  did  not 
simply  adopt  the  Latin  words,  as  so  often  happened,  they 
either  translated  them  as  accurately  as  possible,  or  else 
attributed  the  lacking  meaning  to  native  German  expres¬ 
sions.  In  so  doing,  they  often  transported  words  from 
the  domain  of  the  sensual  to  the  territory  of  the  moral 
and  spiritual.  Their  treatment  of  the  days  of  the  week 
exhibits  the  method  of  accurate  translation.  For  exam¬ 
ple,  the  German  Montag  is  equivalent  to  the  Latin  dies 
lunae  (French,  lundi),  and  Freitag  (Old  High  German, 
Friatag,  or  Tag  der  Freia )  is  the  Latin  Veneris  dies 

33i 


Medieval  Civilization 

(French,  vendredi) .  The  influence  of  Christian  ideas  is 
seen  in  such  translations  as  barmherzig  (Old  High  Ger¬ 
man,  armherzi)  —  Latin  misericors ;  Ge-wissen  =  Latin 
con-scientia ;  Mittler  —  Latin  mediator;  Beichte  (Old 
High  German,  bi-jiht )  =  Latin  con-fessio.  Other 

words  were  translated  more  freely.  The  Latin  paganus 
became  the  German  heidan — modern,  Heide  ( pagus  — 
Heide )  ;  apostolicus  was  rendered  by  zwelfboto— mod¬ 
ern,  Zwolfbote ;  discipulus  was  translated  jungiro— 
modern,  Jiinger;  and  prophetia  was  Germanized  as 
•wissagiinga — modern,  Weissagung.  Many  German  words 
were  adapted  to  Christian  purposes,  and  were  filled 
with  the  most  moral  content.  Such  were  Glaube,  Gnade, 
Basse,  Heil,  Siinde,  Schuld,  Rene,  Taufe,  Holle,  Schop- 
fer,  and  Heiland.  Other  words  were  transferred  directly 
from  the  Latin,  with  only  such  modifications  as  were 
required  by  the  laws  of  German  speech.  Examples  of 
such  words  are:  Marter  ( martyrium ),  Rein  {poena), 
Segen  ( signnm ),  M esse  (miss a),  predigen  (predicare) , 
feiern  (feriae),  op  fern  (operari),  and  verdammen 
(damnare).  Even  the  structure  of  the  German  sentence 
was,  to  a  certain  extent,  affected  by  the  Latin  influence. 
By  nature  it  was  simple,  and  it  could  only  be  rendered 
stiff  and  awkward  by  being  imprisoned  in  the  strait- 
jacket  of  the  Latin  periods.  Otfried  might  complain, 
in  the  introduction  to  his  New  Testament,  that  the  bar¬ 
barous  German  speech  was  rough  and  wild,  and  averse 
to  the  governing  bridle  of  grammatical  art.  The  German 
mother-tongue  had,  at  least,  one  advantage  over  the 
polished  Latin :  it  was  born  of  sentient  strength  and 
living  clearness.  German  words  still  show  distinctly  the 
stamp  they  received  in  their  native  mint. 

332 


Evolution  of  the  German  Language 

The  Old  High  German  speech  also  possessed,  as  a  re¬ 
sult  of  the  fullness  and  rich  color  of  its  vowels,  a  much 
greater  euphony  than  its  successors,  Middle  High  Ger¬ 
man  and  Low  High  German.  Various  linguistic  sur¬ 
vivals,  preserved  through  lucky  circumstances,  give  us  a 
certain  amount  of  information  on  this  subject.  As  the 
amber  dredged  on  the  coasts  of  Samland  prove  that 
forests,  rich  in  resinous  trees,  once  hemmed  the  cold 
ocean  shores  of  to-day,  so  these  broken  fragments  of  old 
word-forms  give  infallible  evidence  of  a  long-vanished 
splendor.  Exempt  from  the  destructive  influences  of  time, 
each  has  preserved  that  brilliant  exterior  which  even  now 
gladdens  the  eyes  of  the  discoverer.  The  Old  High  Ger¬ 
man  word-structure  is  shown  here  and  there  by  proper 
names,  which  are  especially  reliable  sources ;  by  com¬ 
pound  words  which  have,  through  their  firm  articulation, 
saved  many  word-structures  from  perishing;  and,  lastly, 
by  technical  expressions  which,  continually  handed  down 
in  narrow  circles  from  generation  to  generation,  have 
defied  the  storms  of  thousands  of  years.  In  the  names 
Emma,  Bertha,  Frida,  Hulda,  and  Hansa  we  see  old 
feminine  stems  in  a.  Otto,  Hugo,  Kuno,  Bruno,  and  Arno 
are  examples  of  the  Old  High  German  nominative  of  the 
weak  declension.  In  Nachtigall  (songstress  of  the  night; 
compare  Old  High  German  galan  =  tonen )  and  Br'du- 
tigam  (bride’s  man ;  compare  Old  High  German  gomo, 
man,  =  Latin  homo )  we  have  probably  the  old  genitive 
of  the  singular,  and  in  ihro  ( iro )  and  dero  ( dcro ),  the 
old  genitive  of  the  plural.  Prefixed  and  affixed  syllables 
still  exhibit,  now  and  then,  vowels  retaining  their  original 
color.  Thus,  alongside  the  unaccented  forms  er-  (as  in 
erteilen  and  erlauben)  and  ent-  (as  in  entgegnen) ,  we 

333 


Medieval  Civilization 


have  retained,  because  they  were  accented,  nr-  and  ant-  in 
Urteil,  Urlaub,  Antwort,  Ant  lit  2,  etc.  The  endings  -and 
and  -und  in  Heiland,  Weigand,  Wiegand,  and  Leumund 
(Old  High  German,  hliumunt )  correspond  to  the  mod¬ 
ern  -end  in  Liebend  and  Jugend;  -ist  in  Obrist  shows  the 
superlative  ending  of  Old  High  German.  Lastly,  we 
discover  in  hallo  and  holla  old  imperatives  of  halon 
( holen ,  equivalent  to  hoi  iiber!). 

Such  was  Old  High  German,  which  was  current  in  the 
eighth,  ninth,  tenth,  and  eleventh  centuries  throughout 
upper  Germany,  in  the  lands  of  the  Bavarians,  Aleman- 
nians,  and  Franks.  It  had  not  yet  developed  into  a  uni¬ 
form  literary,  or  written,  language,  in  spite  of  the  mighty 
influence  wielded  by  the  great  Charles  over  all  the  lands 
of  German  speech.1  The  great  emperor  and  conqueror 
busied  himself  with  the  writing,  grammar,  and  vocabu¬ 
lary  of  his  beloved  Germany,2  but  he  failed  to  secure  the 
acceptance  of  one  German  dialect  as  the  universal  literary 
language  of  Germans.  After  his  death,  German  lit¬ 
erary  endeavor  and  the  empire  shared  a  common  decline. 

At  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century,  the  place  of  leaders 
in  poetry  passed  from  the  ecclesiastics  to  the  laymen— 
from  the  hands  of  the  monks  into  the  hands  of  the 
knights.  Under  the  influence  of  the  crusades,  the 

1  Charles’s  fame  extended  far  beyond  these  limits,  as  is  shown 
by  the  use  of  his  name,  by  many  non-German  peoples,  in  the 
sense  of  king.  We  have  the  Polish  krol,  Bohemian  krai,  Russian 
koroli,  Hungarian  kiraly,  and  Lithuanian  kar alius.  (Compare 
Caesar =Kaiser. ) 

J  He  introduced,  for  example,  German  names  for  the  months : 
Wintarmanoth,  December;  Ostarmanoth,  April;  Hornung,  Feb¬ 
ruary.  He  caused  the  old  German  folk-songs  to  be  collected, 
and  began  to  make  a  German  grammar. 

334 


6 

Evolution  of  the  German  Language 

knightly  order  quickly  reached  a  high  state  of  develop¬ 
ment  ;  and  the  ideas  which  flowed  from  wide  travel 
in  strange  countries,  especially  the  much-praised  won¬ 
derland  of  the  East,  gave  fresh  nutriment  to  the  mind 
and  a  mighty  stimulus  to  the  imagination.  Involuntarily, 
men  were  moved  to  depict  in  poetry  adventures  like  those 
of  the  crusaders,  and  to  dictate  their  poems  to  the  scribes.1 
The  knights  frequently  found  it  advantageous  to  borrow 
the  material  for  their  heroic  songs  from  foreign  sources. 
French  tales  were  generally  chosen,  for  France  was  the 
chief  school  of  refined  taste  and  the  home  of  courtly 
poetry;  and  the  French  troubadours  and  trouveres  (from 
the  French  trouver,  to  find  or  invent)  took  the  lead  in 
inventing  and  narrating  adventures.  Their  creations 
entered  Germany  by  various  routes,  but  the  Netherlands 
—Flanders  and  Brabant— was  the  principal  one.  The 
Low  Frankish  Henry  of  Veldeke  first  gave  them  vogue 
in  Germany,  and  Hartmann  of  Aue,  a  Swabian,  was  his 
apt  pupil.  Soon  the  Frankish  nobility  of  the  Main  coun¬ 
try  fairly  rivaled  the  Swabian  and  middle  Rhine  nobility 
in  the  production  of  heroic  songs  and  love-songs.  Ans- 
bach  was  the  cradle  of  Wolfram  of  Eschenbach ;  Eisak- 
thal  was,  perhaps,  the  birthplace  of  Walther  of  the  Vogel- 
weide;  the  Nibelungenlied  and  Gudrun  were  given  their 
final  form  in  Austria.  These  poets  and  these  poetical 
compositions  make  this  the  zenith  of  the  poetical  creative¬ 
ness  of  the  Middle  High  German  period. 

Scholars  are  not  yet  agreed  whether  this  epoch  saw 
the  establishment  of  a  uniform  literary  language ;  that  is, 

1  The  German  dichten,  to  write  poetry,  comes 
from  the  Latin  dictare. 


335 


Medieval  Civilization 


whether  there  was  an  accepted  norm,  or  model,  which 
was  followed  both  at  the  Hohenstaufen  court  and  by  the 
poets  of  upper  Germany,  and  was  even  employed  in  song 
and  story  in  various  parts  of  the  Low  German  lands. 
Lachmann,  J.  Grimm,  Haupt,  Wackernagel,  Raumer,  and 
Miillendorf  are  of  the  affirmative  opinion,  and  hold,  for 
the  most  part,  that  the  Alemannic  speech  was  the  founda¬ 
tion  of  this  written,  or  literary,  German.  Others,  like 
Hermann  Paul,  contest  this  view,  although  they  admit  that 
“  many-sided  linguistic  influences  were  at  work  upon  the 
poets  belonging  to  different  regions,  and  that  such  influ¬ 
ences  were  doubtless  active  in  the  sphere  of  vocabulary 
and  syntax.”  It  should  be  added,  too,  that  certain  forms 
of  the  spoken  language  were  intentionally  avoided  in 
poetry. 

This  Middle  High  German  poetical  language  had  great 
and  peculiar  merits.  It  was  as  courtly  and  refined  as  the 
knights  who  employed  it.  Like  the  precious  jewel,  which 
must  be  cut  and  polished  before  its  true  splendor  is 
revealed,  German  style  first  attained  full  beauty  under 
the  hands  of  the  knights.  Under  their  guidance,  it  turned 
away  decisively  from  the  clumsiness  of  earlier  centuries, 
and  differed  as  markedly  from  the  earlier  language  as 
the  worldly-wise  courtiers  differed  in  manner  of  life  from 
the  comfortable  monks.  But  while  the  language  gained 
mobility  and  suppleness,  it  lost  much  of  its  sensuous 
strength  and  sonorousness. 

The  presence  of  an  i  sound  wrought  a  transformation 
in  the  full-sounding  a,  o,  and  u,  and  other  vowels  of  the 
preceding  syllable ;  stronger  accentuation  of  the  stem 
syllable  wore  down  the  sonorous  endings.  The  former 

336 


Evolution  of  the  German  Language 

process  is  called  vowel-modification  ( umlaut )  ;  the  latter, 
weakening.  Both  tendencies  gained  strength  gradually. 
The  umlaut  took  its  rise  in  the  north,  and  began  to 
spread  early  in  the  fifth  century.  The  oldest  extant 
examples  of  Old  Norse  and  Anglo-Saxon  exhibit  the 
process  in  full  operation.  Old  Saxon  and  Old  High  Ger¬ 
man  show  its  effects  to  a  limited  extent.  In  the  latter  of 
these  two  it  is  first  noticeable  in  the  short  a;  its  influence 
upon  the  other  vowels  can  seldom  be  detected  before  the 
tenth  century.  After  that  time,  however,  the  movement 
gradually  widened,  and  Middle  High  German  was  the 
first  to  experience  its  full  force.  In  Middle  High  German 
a,  o,  and  u,  a,  d,  and  u,  and  on  and  no,  regularly  became 
e  (a),  o,  u,  ae,  oe,  and  in,  and  oil  and  He,  respectively. 

These  changes  made  the  appearance  of  Middle  High 
German  essentially  different  from  that  of  Old  High  Ger¬ 
man,  and  the  gulf  was  widened  through  the  weakening 
of  the  back  vowels. 

The  more  the  stem  syllables  were  emphasized,  the  less 
was  the  strength  left  for  the  terminal  syllables ;  and 
the  full-sounding  a,  o,  and  u,  and  the  i  sounds,  either 
vanished  completely  from  the  latter,  or  gave  place  to  the 
colorless  e:  haba,  boto,  sign,  and  burdi  became  habe, 
bote,  sige,  and  biirde;  and  salbon  and  losjan  were  altered 
to  salben  and  loesen.  This  transformation  was  very 
gradual,  and  its  rate  varied  from  place  to  place.  The 
vowels  exhibited  different  powers  of  resistance :  a  and  o 
were  more  obstinate  than  i  and  u.  Weak  verbs,  and  the 
comparative  and  superlative  degrees  of  adjectives,  clung 
with  especial  tenacity  to  the  long  vowels ;  and,  conse¬ 
quently,  it  is  not  unusual  to  meet  in  Middle  High  German 

337 


Medieval  Civilization 


poems  such  forms  as  gemanot  ( gemahnt )  and  oberost 
( oberst ).  But  these  are,  after  all,  only  exceptions  to  the 
general  rule,  and  even  here  the  sapless  and  impotent  e 
soon  penetrated  victoriously.  The  unabbreviated  and  the 
abbreviated  forms  have  but  rarely  survived  together,  as 
in  also  (that  is,  ganz  so — Old  High  German,  also;  Mid¬ 
dle  High  German,  alse )  and  als. 

And  yet,  in  spite  of  these  regrettable  changes,  Middle 
High  German,  in  comparison  with  the  language  of  to-day, 
still  possessed  great  variety  and  rich  diversity.  The 
feminine  nouns,  which  are  now  invariable  in  the  singu¬ 
lar,  had  then  more  vigor ;  contrary  to  the  present  prac¬ 
tice,  proper  names  could,  in  part,  be  made  feminine,  as 
in  Otto,  Otte  (compare  Ottendorf )  ;  the  adverbs,  which 
cannot  be  distinguished  in  form  to-day  from  their  kin¬ 
dred  adjectives,  then  had  usually  another  form;  and, 
lastly,  the  pronouns  possessed  a  richer  variety :  des,  wes, 
der,  and  den  corresponding  to  the  modern  dessen,  zvessen, 
deren,  and  denen.  This  is  seen  in  the  proverb,  “  Wes 
Brot  ich  ess,  des  Lied  ich  sing”  (Whose  bread  I  eat,  his 
praise  I  sing),  and,  also,  in  such  compounds  as  des-halb 
and  wes-zvegen. 

That  which  gave  Middle  High  German  an  especial 
charm,  and  great  superiority  over  modern  literary  Ger¬ 
man  (New  High  German),  was  the  great  number  of  short 
roots  it  possessed,  which  made  it  so  flexible  and  gave  it 
such  a  sprightly,  lively  movement.  German  still  retains 
traces  of  the  earlier  pronunciation  of  syllables  which 
ended  in  a  consonant — in  words  of  one  syllable,  like  an, 
in,  bin,  ab,  ob,  zveg,  dock,  ich,  noch,  was,  es,  des;  and  in 
the  compounds,  bar-fuss,  Vorteil,  Her-berge,  Her-zog, 

338 


Evolution  of  the  German  Language 

Wol-lust,  Wal-kyre,  Wal-halla,  Schel-lack,  Schell  fisch, 
Urteil,  and  znel-leicht  (Middle  High  German,  villihte). 
Even  to  this  day,  one  hears  in  many  parts  of  Germany 
Glas  and  Grab;  but  rarely  does  one  now  hear  the  short 
vowels  in  open  syllables :  Glds-es,  Grab-es,  Klag-en,  le- 
ben,  Wi-se,  lo-ben,  and  Tu-gende. 

The  sway  of  the  German  language  extended  as  the 
power  of  the  empire  increased.  In  Old  High  German 
days,  the  Elbe  and  the  Saale  had  formed  the  eastern 
frontier  of  the  German  fatherland,  but  the  Saxon  em¬ 
perors  had  inaugurated  the  work  of  reconquering  the  old 
German  territory  upon  which  the  advancing  Slavs  had 
settled.  Their  successors  continued  their  work  most 
auspiciously,  and  were  energetically  supported  by  such 
valiant  princes  of  the  empire  as  Henry  the  Lion.  Under 
the  protection  of  the  cities  which  the  dauntless  knight¬ 
hood  of  Germany  built  in  the  foreign  territory,  German 
settlers  began  the  cultivation  of  the  newly  won  lands 
allotted  to  them,  and  pious  monks  taught  the  heathen 
population  the  Christian  faith.  Henceforth,  Low  German 
was  the  prevailing  tongue  in  the  Baltic  lands  from  Meck¬ 
lenburg  to  Courland,  for  this  region  was  largely  settled 
by  Saxons.  In  Austria,  Salzburg,  Steiermark,  and  the 
other  adjacent  territories,  the  settlers  were  Bavarians, 
and  the  language  employed  was,  consequently,  a  High 
German  one.  Meissen,  Bohemia,  and  Silesia  received 
their  new  German  population  principally  from  Thuringia 
and  the  region  of  the  Main,  and  so  their  language  was 
Middle  German,  a  tongue  which  in  many  respects  occu¬ 
pied  an  intermediate  position  between  those  spoken  in 
the  two  other  groups  of  colonies.  One  effect  of  this 

339 


Medieval  Civilization 


German  Drang  nach  Osten  was  the  eastward  extension 
of  the  linguistic  frontier  between  north  and  south  Ger¬ 
many.  From  Barby,  on  the  Elbe,  it  now  advanced  in 
an  easterly  direction,  passing  through  Wittenberg, 
Liibben,  Guben,  Krossen,  Zullichau,  and  Meseritz;  and, 
in  the  district  of  Birnbaum,  on  the  Warthe,  it  entered 
right  into  Slavic  territory.  Some  districts  of  Electoral 
Saxony  which  were  originally  Low  German  now  passed 
over,  gradually,  to  the  High  German  camp.  Merseburg 
(ca.  1340),  Halle  (ca.  1400),  and  Mansfeld  (in  the 
fifteenth  century),  and  even  the  southern  portion  of  the 
province  of  Brandenburg,  in  this  way,  became  High  Ger¬ 
man  in  language.  In  view  of  the  mental  advantages 
which  south  Germany  possessed,  through  its  writings  and 
linguistic  creativeness,  and  in  view,  also,  of  its  political 
preponderance,  the  territorial  conquests  of  High  German 
cannot  be  regarded  as  surprising. 

The  territory  south  of  the  great  linguistic  frontier  was, 
however,  exposed  to  the  invasion  of  a  new  vowel-shifting, 
which  took  its  rise  in  the  twelfth  century  in  southeastern 
Germany.  It  consisted  in  the  lengthening  of  the  vowels 
i,  u,  and  iu  (long  ii)  into  ei,  au  ( ou ),  and  eu  ( an ).  Min, 
rum,  and  hiute  became  mein,  Raum,  and  heute.  In  the 
early  thirteenth  century  this  “  linguistic  phenomenon  ” 
seems  to  be  restricted  to  lower  Austria;  by  1280  it  em¬ 
braced  the  Swabian  and  Frankish  borders  and  the  Tyrol 
and  Steiermark ;  and  in  the  fourteenth  century  it  made 
the  conquest  of  Austria,  Bavaria,  and  east  Franconia. 
Silesia  accepted  the  innovation  in  the  same  century ; 
upper  Saxony  definitely  succumbed  about  1470;  and 
Mainz,  Worms,  and  Frankfort  finally  gave  up  the  battle 

340 


Evolution  of  the  German  Language 

about  1500.  In  the  meantime,  the  Alemannic  territory 
was  besieged,  and  partly  surrendered  when  the  book- 
publishers  of  Augsburg,  Ulm,  and  Strasburg  gave  up 
using  the  simple  letters  in  works  for  which  they  antici¬ 
pated  a  wide  circulation.  Switzerland,  alone,  held  out 
for  some  time  longer.  The  Low  German  dialects  (and 
some  dialects  of  middle  and  upper  Germany)  have  clung 
to  the  old  pronunciation  to  the  present  day.  That  ex¬ 
plains  why  we  have  to-day  several  expressions  in  literary 
German  which,  according  to  the  district  in  which  they 
are  employed,  appear  in  the  old  or  the  new  form.  Such 
are  Dune  and  Rhin,  or  Daune  and  Rhein. 

Southwestern  Germany  gave  birth  to  still  another 
sound-change.  It  appeared  first  on  Alemannic-Swiss  soil 
in  the  thirteenth  century.  It  consisted  in  the  substitution 
of  sch  for  sk  ( forskon :  forschen).  This  change  won  its 
way  in  upper  and  middle  German  lands  before  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  the  age  of  modern  literary  German  (New  High 
German)  ;  and  in  these  parts  of  Germany  initial  sm,  sn, 
si,  and  sw  gave  way  to  schrn ,  schn,  sc  hi,  and  schzv,  and 
even  sp  and  st  had  to  yield  partially  to  schp  and  scht. 
Literary  German  has  definitely  accepted  the  change  in 
the  cases  of  schm,  schn,  schl,  and  schzv,  but  it  has  re¬ 
mained  loyal  to  the  original  forms  sp  and  st.  Here  again, 
however,  the  Low  German  dialects  have  remained  firmly 
attached  to  their  past,  and  they  are  still  untouched  by  this 
whole  sound-change. 

North  Germany  and  south  Germany  thus  went  their 
own  independent  ways,  and  developed  sharp  linguistic 
contrasts.  These  contrasts  were  reconciled,  or  at  least 
dulled,  in  the  territories  along  their  common  border— that 

341 


Medieval  Civilization 


is,  in  the  lands  of  middle  Germany.  The  intermediate 
linguistic  position  of  middle  Germany  was  exhibited  both 
in  pronunciation  and  vocabulary.  Here,  again,  she 
formed  the  bridge  between  north  and  south. 

The  Middle  German  dialects  undoubtedly  exhibit,  on  a 
High  German  foundation,  a  close  agreement  with  Low 
German.1  Hence,  they  were  best  fitted  for  the  diffusion 
of  Luther’s  translation  of  the  Bible  throughout  Germany. 
It  was,  therefore,  an  especially  clever  stroke  on  the  part 
of  Luther  to  choose,  as  the  basis  for  his  translation,  the 
language  of  the  chancery  of  Electoral  Saxony.  He  him¬ 
self  says,  in  Chapter  69  of  his  Table  Talk:  “  I  have  not 
used  any  one,  special,  peculiar,  German  dialect,  but  have 
employed  the  common  German  tongue,  in  order  that 
both  High  German  and  Low  German  lands  might  under¬ 
stand  me.  I  speak  after  the  fashion  of  the  Saxon  chan¬ 
cery,  which  is  followed  by  all  princes  and  kings  in  Ger¬ 
many.  All  imperial  cities  and  princely  courts  write 
according  to  the  usage  of  the  Saxon  chancery,  which  is 
that  of  our  prince.  Hence,  it  is  the  most  common  German 
language.  Kaiser  Maximilian  and  Elector  Frederick, 
duke  of  Saxony,  have  also,  in  the  Roman  Empire,  fused 
together  the  German  tongues  into  one  definite  language.” 
The  rise  of  official— legal— languages  demands  a  few 
words. 

1  Hence  many  expressions  in  Luther’s  Bible  were  at  first  unin¬ 
telligible  to  the  people  of  upper  Germany,  and  different  Basel, 
Strasburg,  and  Augsburg  publishers  of  new  editions  of  his  New 
Testament  deemed  it  advisable  to  append  short  dictionaries  in 
which  the  more  obscure  Middle  German  and  Low  German  ex¬ 
pressions  were  elucidated  in  High  German.  Adam  Petri  was  the 
first  to  do  this,  in  1523.  It  was  done  for  the  last  time  in  1532,  a 
proof  of  the  astonishing  rapidity  with  which  the  Germans  learned 
to  understand  the  vocabulary  of  Luther. 

342 


Evolution  of  the  German  Language 

When  Latin,  in  the  first  half  of  the  fourteenth  century, 
ceased  to  be  the  almost  exclusive  language  of  official 
documents,  the  court  of  the  Saxon  electors  at  Witten¬ 
berg  began  to  develop  a  legal  style  out  of  the  Upper 
Saxon  dialect ;  and  this  was  employed  in  dealings  with 
the  courts  of  the  other  princes.  But  each  of  these  princes 
had  also  created  a  “  chancery  German  ”  out  of  the  dia¬ 
lect  of  his  country.  Consequently,  a  desire  was  soon 
manifested  for  the  joint  establishment  of  a  German  for 
official  documents  which  would  be  easily  comprehended 
by  all  the  parties  concerned.  In  the  work  of  determining 
what  this  official  German  should  be,  the  written  German 
of  the  imperial  court  exercisqjd  a  decisive  influence,  for 
it  carried  with  it  the  imperial  prestige.  This  written 
German  had  been  developed  out  of  the  Middle  German 
employed  at  Prague  during  the  rule  of  the  Bohemian- 
Luxemburg  house,  and  had  been  substantially  fixed  as 
early  as  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century  in  the 
chancery  of  Emperor  Charles  IV.  One  hundred  years 
later  it  was  the  model  for  the  written  German  of  the 
chancery  of  Electoral  Saxony,  and  in  all  cases  of  doubt 
the  practice  of  the  imperial  court  was  followed.  At  the 
accession  of  Elector  Frederick  the  Wise  of  Saxony,  in 
i486,  the  reconciliation  of  the  imperial  and  the  electoral 
chancery  German  was,  in  the  main,  complete ;  and  after 
Luther’s  translation  the  same  process  was  carried  out  at 
the  capitals  of  the  other  princes. 

The  influence  of  the  imperial  chancery  upon  the  Ger¬ 
man  publishers  was  less  important,  for  it  was  not  direct. 
It  was  exerted  indirectly,  through  the  chanceries  of  the 
princes  and  the  free  cities  in  whose  territories  the  print- 

343 


Medieval  Civilization 


ing  centers  were  located.  Furthermore,  the  publishers, 
little  by  little,  made  themselves  entirely  independent  of 
these  local  models,  and,  in  fact,  far  surpassed  them  in 
their  efforts  to  establish  a  uniform  practice  in  literary 
German.  The  growing  self-reliance  of  the  publishers,  in 
this  matter  of  the  language,  is  not  to  be  undervalued; 
for  they  had  the  most  to  say  in  the  matter  of  the  linguistic 
form  of  their  books,  and  it  was  incumbent  upon  them  to 
secure  as  much  unanimity  of  practice  as  possible,  if  their 
books  were  to  have  the  most  extensive  circulation.  The 
most  important  publishing  centers  were  located  in  upper 
and  middle  Germany :  in  Swabia  ( Augsburg) ,  in  the 
region  of  the  upper  Rhine  (Basel  and  Strasburg),  in 
Franconia  (Nuremberg),  in  the  middle  Rhine  territories 
(Worms,  Mainz,  and  Frankfort),  and  in  upper  Saxony 
(Leipzig  and  Wittenberg).  At  first  the  printing  estab¬ 
lishments  of  these  cities  were  rather  dependent  upon  the 
manner  of  speech  in  their  locality ;  but  more  and  more 
they  broke  away,  and,  especially  about  1 530,  they  approxi¬ 
mated  to  the  common  German  language  of  the  Saxon 
chancer}-.  The  Augsburg  printers  came  nearest,  in  their 
publications,  to  the  language  of  the  imperial  chancery;  t 
the  printers  of  middle  Germany  still  remained  more  or 
less  firmly  rooted  in  their  dialect.  And  yet,  as  time 
passed,  this  middle  German  dialect  grew  increasingly 
influential.  The  special  reasons  for  this  were  that  the 
decisions  of  the  imperial  Diet  were  printed  at  Mainz,  in 
the  middle  Rhine  country;  that  Frankfort  was  then  one 
of  the  most  important  book-markets ;  and  that  the  Protes¬ 
tant  writings,  which  were  scattered  broadcast,  were,  to 
a  very  large  extent,  issued  from  the  Saxon  electorate. 

344 


Evolution  of  the  German  Language 

The  most  important  cause  of  the  growing  influence  of 
Middle  German  was  Luther’s  translation  of  the  Bible. 
This  mighty  intellectual  achievement  thrilled  the  hearts 
of  the  whole  German  people,  and  step  by  step  aided  the 
written  language  of  Electoral  Saxony  to  obtain  the  vic¬ 
tory  in  all  Germany. 

Whoever  thinks  that  Luther’s  German  coincides  com¬ 
pletely  with  the  literary  German  of  to-day  makes  a  very 
great  mistake.  In  many  particulars  the  former  is  more 
akin  to  Middle  High  German  than  to  the  latter.1  He  also 
errs  who  is  of  the  opinion  that  Luther’s  language  was 


1  Luther  uses  e  where  5  is  now  customary,  writing  Helle,  Leffel, 
zwelf,  leschen,  etc.  He  writes  ie  for  ii,  as  in  liegen  and  triegen 
( liigen  and  triigen),  and  i  for  ii  in  wirdig  (wiirdig) .  He  employs 
the  suffix  -lin  where  the  modern  form  is  -lein  ( Piinktlin ,  Megdlin, 
Stiindlin,  and  Gebetlin),  the  suffix  -lich  for  the  modern  -ig 
( adellich ,  billich,  and  unsellich),  and  e  for  a,  as  in  Veter,  Hende, 
teglich,  and  allmechtig  ( Vdter ,  Hande,  taglich,  and  allmachtig). 
Moreover,  he  writes  nu  for  nun,  rauch  for  rauh,  Heubt  for 
Haupt,  gulden  for  golden,  frutn  for  fromtn,  etc.,  etc.  He  forms 
the  past  tense  in  the  Middle  High  German  way:  ich  beiss,  bleib, 
greif,  and  reit  (modern  hiss,  blieb,  griff,  ritt ),  wir  schwunden, 
funden,  drungen,  hulfen  (modern  schwanden,  fanden,  drangen, 
halfen )  ;  stund  and  hub  are  the  Lutheran  form  of  stand  and 
hob;  weiste  and  preiste,  of  wies  and  pries;  and  worden,  kommen, 
geben,  funden,  bracht,  and  missethan,  of  geworden,  gekommen, 
gegeben,  etc.  Luther  frequently  uses  zeuch,  kreucht,  and  fleucht 
for  sieh,  kriecht,  and  fliegt.  He  treats  Angel,  Gewalt,  Lust,  and 
Sitte  as  masculine  words,  and  Bekenntnis,  Aergernis,  Gefangnis, 
etc.,  as  feminines.  He  frequently  has  weak  genitives  in  the 
singular,  as  Gallen,  Kirchen,  Pforten,  and  Zungen, and  nominative 
plurals  like  Tugende  and  Meinunge.  For  the  numeral  swei  he 
gives  three  genders :  sween,  zwo,  zwei.  Lastly,  we  find  ar¬ 
chaisms  in  his  Bible:  lecken  (to  kick  with  the  feet),  tliiiren 
(Middle  High  German  turren)  for  wagen,  evern  for  wiederholen, 
ergern  (to  lead  into  sin),  hellig  for  ermiidet,  freidig  for  kiihn, 
ehrlich  for  ansehnlich,  wacker  for  wachsam,  richtig  for  gerade, 
Ort  for  Ende,  Reise  for  Kriegszug,  Fahrt  for  Reise,  Elend  for 
Ausland,  weil  for  so  lange  als,  etc.,  etc. 

345 


Medieval  Civilization 


fixed  from  the  start.  In  language,  as  in  questions  of 
religion  and  morals,  we  see  him  struggling  and  develop¬ 
ing;  and  Franke  has  been  able  to  discover  three  stages 
in  the  development  of  his  written  language,  viz.,  1516- 
1520,  1521-1531,  1532-1546.  The  decisive  factor  in  these 
periods  is  the  diminishing  use  of  the  forms  of  Middle 
High  German  and  the  patois  of  middle  Germany. 

Luther’s  style,  too,  was  a  gradual  development,  a  style 
which  completely  mirrors  the  blunt,  kernelly  personality 
of  the  mighty  man,  and  which  has  contributed  so  much 
to  the  popularity  of  his  translation  of  the  Bible.  Luther 
alone  could  wield  such  a  style — so  perspicuous,  so 
life-giving  and  soul-stirring,  so  simple  and  true.  He 
did  not  hesitate  to  visit  the  workshops  of  the  artisans  and 
to  listen  to  the  speech  of  the  common  man  in  the  street^ 
in  order  that  he  might  fix  his  words  in  the  sense  and 
after  the  fashion  of  the  people.  It  is  true  that  several 
centuries  were  required  before  there  was  built  upon  the 
foundation  which  Luther  laid  a  complete  accord  in  writ¬ 
ten  German,  from  the  Rhine  to  the  Niemen,  and  from 
the  Schlei  to  the  Alps,  but  the  delay  was  due  to  special 
circumstances  [with  which  a  sketch  of  the  medieval  evo¬ 
lution  of  German  has  nothing  to  do].  The  striking  per¬ 
sonality  of  Luther  is  the  most  prominent  landmark  in 
the  whole  history  of  the  German  tongue.  The  Bible  has 
transformed  and  ruled  the  world ;  Luther’s  translation 
has  been  a  transforming  and  ruling  factor  in  the  develop¬ 
ment  of  the  German  language.  He  made  it  German 
again;  that  is,  he  made  it  the  language  of  the  people, 
and  renewed  its  strength  through  fresh  grafts  from  the 
great  tree  of  the  life  of  the  people.  Without  his  trans- 

346 


Evolution  of  the  German  Language 

lation  of  the  Bible,  Germany  would  have  had  no  Goethe 
and  no  Schiller.  As  the  Romans  for  centuries  zealously 
studied  their  language  from  the  Twelve  Tables  of  their 
law  and  instructed  their,  youth  therein,  so  the  Bible  of 
Luther  has  been  for  hundreds  of  years  the  work  from 
which  the  German  people  have  drawn  their  intellectual 
sustenance,  and  on  which  both  the  great  and  the  small 
have  modeled  their  style.  A  law-book  was  the  linguistic 
plumb-line  of  the  rationalistic  Romans.  A  religious  book 
was  the  touchstone  of  the  nobly  sentimental  Germans. 
The  Roman  sword  prepared  the  way  for  the  Latin  lan¬ 
guage  through  a  great  part  of  Europe ;  Luther’s  linguis¬ 
tic  activity  prepared  the  way  for  the  German  sword  and 
for  the  political  union  of  Germany.  The  more  the  mate¬ 
rial  power  of  the  empire  declined,  the  more  closely  were 
the  spiritual  bonds  which  united  the  German  races 
drawn  together,  and  the  more  zealously  did  Germans  seek 
comfort  in  the  intellectual  wealth  common  to  all,  and 
find  solace  in  the  remembrance  of  their  great  ancestors 
and  in  the  joy  of  their  noble  language.  Luther  began 
the  work  which  was  completed  by  the  victorious  cam¬ 
paigns  of  1866  and  1870— the  work  of  German  unity. 


347 


Life  and  Interests  of  the  Students 


Adapted  from  A.  Lecoy  de  la  Marche :  La  chaire 
frangaise  au  moyen  age,  1868,  pp.  415-427. 

OTHING  in  the  thirteenth  century  is  more  remark- 


i\  able  than  the  zeal  which  incited  the  spirit  toward 
study,  than  the  activity  of  the  schools  and  the  influence 
of  the  universities.  France  was  the  scene  of  this  great 
intellectual  movement ;  and  Paris  was,  to  use  the  expres¬ 
sion  of  St.  Bonaventure,  the  source  whence  the  little  rivu¬ 
lets  of  science  spread  throughout  the  entire  world.  Medi¬ 
cine  was  studied  at  Salerno,  magic  at  Toledo,  and  law  at 
Bologna  or  at  Orleans :  but  it  was  necessary  to  reside  at 
Paris  to  learn  the  liberal  arts  and  theology,  this  summum 
scientiae.  Colleges  multiplied  in  the  capital.  In  addition 
to  the  university  center  of  Mount  St.  Genevieve,  a  great 
number  of  churches  had  their  schools :  Notre-Dame, 
Saint  -  Germain  -  l’Auxerrois,  Saint  -  Nicolas  -  du  -  Louvre, 
Saint-Julien-le-Pauvre,  etc.;  the  Dominicans,  almost  as 
soon  as  they  reached  Paris,  opened  one  in  the  rue  Saint- 
Jacques,  which  soon  became,  in  spite  of  the  opposition 
of  the  lay  doctors,  the  most  flourishing  of  all.  Robert 
de  Sorbon,  a  little  later,  gave  to  these  different  founda¬ 
tions  a  most  opportune  supplement.  At  Toulouse  and  at 
Montpellier, education  was  also  in  a  very  active  condition: 
Helinand  and  Alain  de  Lille  found  there,  among  the  stu¬ 
dents,  well-instructed  and  zealous  hearers. 


348 


Life  and  Interests  of  the  Students 


From  all  the  countries  of  Europe  disciples  flocked  to 
the  masters  who  had  acquired  a  reputation  for  knowledge 
in  any  branch.  Stephen  Langton  and  Robert  Grosse-Tete 
had  studied  at  the  university  of  Paris  before  being  pro¬ 
fessors  and  filling  official  positions  in  it.  This  expatria¬ 
tion  to  which  love  of  science  condemned  the  young  men 
was  very  useful  to  them,  if  we  may  believe  Jacques  de 
Vitry;  for,  in  their  own  country,  under  the  parental 
roof,  they  lived  in  the  midst  of  pleasure  and  a  thousand 
frivolous  occupations  which  prevented  them  from  work¬ 
ing.  For  that  reason  they  preferred,  when  they  were 
wise,  to  go  elsewhere.  In  the  bosom  of  the  university  • 
they  found  a  welcome  and  protection,  and  enjoyed  inde¬ 
pendence  and  much-envied  privileges,  which,  however, 
did  not  always  tend  to  make  the  studies  more  profitable, 
for  they  were  the  cause  of  perpetual  trouble  and  conflict. 
The  lessons  were  interrupted  at  every  moment.  This 
caused  the  complaints  which  we  find  in  the  mouths 
of  several  preachers  of  sermons,  who  cried  out,  in  1273, 
with  regard  to  events  of  this  nature,  of  which  the  details 
are  not  known  to  us :  “  Let  us  pray  for  the  schools  at 
Paris,  for  the  suppression  of  a  single  course  of  study  leads 
each  day  to  incomparable  and  irreparable  loss.  .  .  . 
There,  in  fact,  are  recruited  all  the  men  of  talent  and  all 
the  prelates  of  the  universal  Church.”  In  fact,  the  re¬ 
sistance  to  the  progress  of  the  mendicant  orders  and  the 
rivalry  of  the  doctors  contributed  to  these  disorders.  The 
great  city  resounded  with  the  noise  of  vain  disputes  and 
scholastic  quarrels. 

“  What  are  these  combats  of  scholars,”  asks  the  chan¬ 
cellor,  “  if  not  true  cock-fights,  which  cover  us  with  ridi- 

349 


Medieval  Civilization 


cule  in  the  eyes  of  laymen?  A  cock  draws  himself  up 
against  another  and  bristles  his  feathers.  ...  It  is  the 
same  to-day  with  our  professors.  Cocks  fight  with  blows 
from  their  beaks  and  claws ;  ‘  Self-love,’  as  some  one  has 
said,  ‘  is  armed  with  a  dangerous  spur.’  ” 

It  was  necessary  for  the  students  who  arrived  at  the 
university  with  the  intention  of  pursuing  serious  study  to 
shun  these  constant  fighters,  to  choose  good  masters,  and 
to  listen  to  them  assiduously.  The  cardinal  of  Vitry, 
among  other  things,  recommends  to  them  to  beware  of  the 
neophytes— that  is,  of  the  young  doctors  who  draw  crowds 
by  the  bait  of  curiosity,  and  take  all  their  teaching,  not 
from  their  memory  or  experience,  but  from  the  copy¬ 
books  and  the  book-shelves ;  for  some  pupils  are  led  away 
by  them  through  their  prayers,  caresses,  and  even  money, 
and  so  waste  their  most  precious  time  in  idle  pursuits. 
Scholars  paid  by  the  teacher,— is  not  that  a  pretty  exam¬ 
ple  of  the  spirit  of  intrigue  and  jealousy  which  agitated 
the  schools?  .  .  . 

Some  were  so  fickle  and  careless  that  even  under  skilful 
professors  they  learned  nothing.  They  went  from  one 
lecture  to  another,  changing  continually  their  courses 
and  their  books.  They  followed  the  classes  during  the 
winter  and  went  away  in  summer.  It  is  evident  that  they 
desired  merely  the  title  of  scholar  or  the  revenues  conse¬ 
crated  by  the  churches  to  the  support  of  poor  students. 
They  seated  themselves  upon  the  benches  once  or  twice 
a  week,  and  by  preference  went  to  the  lectures  of  the  de- 
cretists,  because  these  came  only  at  the  third  hour,  and 
thus  they  could  sleep  in  the  morning  at  their  ease.  This 
did  not  prevent  them,  however,  from  often  carrying 

350 


Life  and  Interests  of  the  Students 


enormous  volumes  out  of  pure  ostentation,  following 
the  example  set  by  the  sons  of  the  rich  Romans  in  former 
times. 

Another  essential  thing  for  the  young  student  in  quest 
of  solid  learning  was  the  choice  and  use  of  a  good  method 
of  work.  It  has  often  been  said  that  at  that  time  the 
whole  system  of  teaching  consisted  of  argumentation,  but 
it  was  not,  as  one  might  suppose,  only  a  mechanical  intel¬ 
lectual  trick  put  in  practice.  One  of  the  most  competent 
teachers  drew  up  for  the  students  a  very  well  conceived 
and  thoughtful  plan,  which  informs  us  of  their  exercises 
and  their  daily  occupations.  The  founder  of  the  Sor- 
bonne  wrote  a  treatise,  including  the  most  precise  details, 
upon  the  examinations  set  for  the  candidates  for  the 
license  ( De  conscientia).  This  has  long  been  known. 
The  unedited  piece  of  which  we  wish  to  speak  is  no  less 
instructive,  although  abridged  in  form.  Here  is  an 
analysis  of  it : 

“  The  student  who  wishes  to  profit  by  his  lessons  ought 
to  observe  six  essential  rules  : 

“  i.  Consecrate  a  fixed  hour  to  each  study,  as  St.  Ber¬ 
nard  advises  in  his  letters  to  the  brethren  of  Mont-Dieu. 

“  2.  Fix  the  attention  upon  what  is  read,  and  do  not 
pass  over  it  lightly.  ‘  There  is,’  says  St.  Bernard  again, 
‘  the  same  difference  between  reading  and  study  as  be¬ 
tween  a  host  and  a  friend,  a  salute  exchanged  in  the 
street  and  unalterable  affection.’ 

“  3.  Extract  from  the  daily  reading  some  thought,  some 
truth,  and  grave  it  upon  the  memory  with  special  care. 
Seneca  has  said :  ‘  Cum  multa  percurreris  in  die,  unum 
tibi  elige  quod  ilia  die  excoquas.’ 

35i 


Medieval  Civilization 


“4.  Write  out  a  resume,  for  words  which  are  not  con¬ 
fided  to  writing  fly  away  like  dust  before  the  wind. 

“  5.  Discuss  the  matter  with  fellow-students  in  disputa¬ 
tions  or  in  familiar  talk.  This  exercise  is  even  more  ad¬ 
vantageous  than  reading,  because  it  results  in  clearing 
up  all  doubts  and  all  obscurities  that  the  reading  may 
have  left.  Nihil  perfecte  scitur,  nisi  dente  disputationis 
feriatur. 

“  6.  Pray ;  this  is,  in  fact,  one  of  the  best  means  of 
learning.  St.  Bernard  teaches  that  reading  ought  to  ex¬ 
cite  the  movements  of  the  soul,  and  it  is  necessary  to  profit 
by  it  for  raising  one’s  heart  to  God  without  interrupting 
the  study. 

“  Certain  students  act  like  fools.  They  display  their 
subtlety  in  foolish  things  and  show  themselves  destitute 
of  understanding  in  important  things.  In  order  not  to 
seem  to  have  lost  their  time,  they  get  together  sheets  of 
parchment  and  form  thick  volumes,  filled  with  leaves 
blank  on  one  side,  and  cover  them  with  elegant  bindings 
of  red  leather.  Then  they  return  to  their  fathers’  houses 
with  a  little  sack  filled  with  knowledge,  and  with  a  mind 
completely  empty.  But  what  is  this  knowledge  that  can 
be  stolen  by  a  robber,  gnawed  by  rats  or  worms,  and  de¬ 
stroyed  by  fire  or  water? 

“  To  acquire  learning,  it  is  necessary  to  abstain  from 
carnal  pleasures  and  from  the  embarrassment  of  material 
cares.  There  were  at  Paris  two  masters,  who  were  close 
friends,  of  whom  one  had  seen  a  great  deal,  had  read  a 
great  deal,  and  night  and  day  bent  over  his  books.  He 
scarcely  took  time  to  say  a  Pater.  He  had  only  four  stu¬ 
dents.  His  colleague  possessed  a  smaller  library  and  was 

352 


Life  and  Interests  of  the  Students 


less  given  to  study,  but  he  heard  mass  each  morning 
before  giving  his  lesson  and  his  school  was  full.  ‘  How 
do  you  do  it  ?  ’  the  first  asked  him.  ‘  It  is  very  simple/ 
he  replied  smilingly ;  ‘  God  studies  for  me.  I  go  to  mass, 
and  when  I  return  I  know  by  heart  all  that  I  ought  to 
teach.’ 

“  Meditation  is  suitable  not  only  for  the  master  but  also 
for  the  scholar.  A  good  student  ought  to  walk  evenings 
along  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  not  for  pleasure,  but  for 
repeating  or  thinking  about  his  lesson.” 

Robert  finishes  by  blaming  those  who  are  satisfied  with 
incomplete  learning  and  do  not  know  how  to  utilize  what 
they  have  gotten.  “  Grammar  forges  the  sword  of  the 
word  of  God ;  rhetoric  polishes  it ;  finally,  theology  puts 
it  to  use.  But  there  are  students  who  learn  constantly  to 
fabricate  and  to  sharpen  it,  and  by  dint  of  too  much  grind¬ 
ing  finally  wear  it  out  entirely.  Others  keep  it  shut  up 
in  the  scabbard,  and,  when  they  wish  to  draw  it,  it  is  old, 
the  iron  is  rusted,  and  they  can  no  longer  produce  any¬ 
thing.  As  for  those  who  study  in  order  to  get  dignities 
and  prelacies,  they  are  very  much  deceived,  for  they 
scarcely  ever  attain  anything.” 

This  sketch  is  still  incomplete,  and  it  shows  us  only  the 
private  work  of  the  student,  without  telling  us  of  the  char¬ 
acter  of  the  teaching.  The  latter  took  place  by  means  of 
lectiones,  simple  discourses  pronounced  by  the  professors, 
as  in  our  public  courses,  during  which  the  listeners  took 
notes  according  to  their  skill  or  their  fancy.  When  the 
subject  was  the  explanation  of  a  text,  they  followed  in  a 
copy,  just  as  can  be  seen  in  the  miniature  placed  at  the 
head  of  the  sermons  of  Jean  dAbbeville,  which  shows 

353 


Medieval  Civilization 


students  seated  before  the  chair  of  the  master.  On  Sat¬ 
urdays  there  were  recitations  on  all  the  lessons  given 
in  the  university  during  the  week.  These  were  presided 
over  by  the  magnus  magister  scholae. 

Such  a  method  certainly  offered  great  advantages.  It 
left,  above  all,  a  large  part  of  the  initiative  to  the  student, 
who  was  ordinarily  old  enough  to  work  alone ;  for  it  was 
not  unusual  for  a  scholar  to  stay  on  the  benches  until 
twenty-five  or  thirty  years  of  age.  One  was  called  a 
scholasticus  only  when  he  had  proved  that  he  had  fol¬ 
lowed  courses  for  a  fixed  time ;  after  long  evenings  had 
been  given  to  study,  it  was  necessary  to  go  to  the  chan¬ 
cellor  of  the  university  to  obtain,  by  a  public  examination, 
the  desired  degree.  This  is  the  way  in  which  the  exami¬ 
nations  for  the  license  were  conducted,  according  to  the 
indications  which  can  be  drawn  from  the  parallel  related 
by  Robert  of  Sorbon  in  his  discourse  upon  The  Con¬ 
science:  The  candidate,  already  a  bachelor,  went  to  the 
chancellor  and  received  from  him  the  book  upon  which  he 
was  to  be  questioned.  He  carried  it  away,  read  it  through, 
then  noted  or  studied  the  difficulties  which  he  might  have 
encountered.  Thus  prepared,  he  returned  to  ask  for  a 
date  for  his  examination.  Then  he  appeared  before  a 
jury,  composed  of  the  chancellor  and  several  doctors,  who 
heard  him  speak  upon  this  subject.  If  he  passed,  they 
declared  him  admitted.  If  not,  they  sent  him  away  for 
a  year.  It  seems  that  cunning  and  corruption  sometimes 
glided  into  these  solemn  judgments.  The  examiners  vol¬ 
untarily  showed  themselves  less  severe  to  the  nobles 
and  the  great.  Certain  candidates  who  had  been  rejected 
obtained  their  diplomas  by  bribery  or  solicitation,  and 
that  was  a  new  source  of  trouble. 


354 


Life  and  Interests  of  the  Students 


The  subjects  taught  were  arranged  in  a  regular,  me¬ 
thodical  curriculum,  comprising  theology  and  the  seven 
liberal  arts, — grammar,  rhetoric,  and  dialectics  (the 
trivium),  and  arithmetic,  geometry,  music,  and  astronomy 
(the  quadrivium).  These  different  sciences  formed  a 
ladder,  of  which  it  was  necessary  to  mount  the  rounds  one 
after  another,  for  it  was  not  customary  to  go  into  a  spe¬ 
cialty.  All  branches  of  study,  in  the  thought  of  the  ser- 
monizers  and  in  the  general  belief  of  the  time,  had  a  single 
object  and  the  same  end,— the  knowledge  of  God,  which 
theology  finally  accomplished  :  “  Omnis  scientia  debet  re- 
ferri  ad  cognitionem  Christi.”  Theology  was  the  supreme 
science,  for  which  the  others  were  only  a  preparation. 
“Debet  scolaris  ire  per  viam  ad  puteum  ( ut  Isaac),  id  est 
per  scientias  adminic ul antes  ad  theologiam.”  “  Logic  is 
good,  since  it  teaches  us  to  tell  the  good  from  the  false ; 
grammar  is  good,  since  it  teaches  us  to  write  and  speak 
correctly ;  rhetoric  is  good,  since  it  teaches  us  to  speak  ele¬ 
gantly  and  persuasively ;  geometry  is  good,  since  it 
teaches  us  to  measure  the  earth,  the  domain  of  our  bodies ; 
arithmetic,  or  the  art  of  accounting,  is  good,  since  it  is 
the  means  by  which  we  can  convince  ourselves  of  the 
small  number  of  our  days ;  music,  since  it  instructs  us  in 
harmony  and  recalls  to- us  the  sweet  chants  of  the  blessed; 
astronomy,  since  it  makes  us  regard  the  celestial  bodies 
and  the  virtue  of  the  stars  which  shine  before  God.  But 
far  better  is  theology,  which  alone  can  be  called  a  liberal 
art,  because  it  delivers  the  human  soul  from  its  ills.” 

The  chancellor  of  Paris  blamed  young  men  who  aban¬ 
doned  the  Holy  Scriptures  for  the  law  and  other  facul¬ 
ties.  In  spite  of  all,  they  rushed  to  the  lessons  of  the 
legists,  and  certainly  it  was  not  merely  because  they  were 

355 


Medieval  Civilization 


given  at  a  later  hour.  Logic,  or  rather  dialectics,  was 
another  attractive  subject,  and  another  subject  of  abuse. 

The  student  at  the  university  presented  still  another  as¬ 
pect  from  that  which  we  have  just  seen.  He  was  not 
always  a  serious  young  man,  full  of  zeal  for  study,  who 
bent  over  the  glosses  of  the  Bible  or  of  Aristotle.  He  was 
also,  and  often  above  everything  else,  a  mad  reveler,  who 
“  at  night  rushes  about  armed  in  the  streets  of  the  capital, 
breaks  open  the  doors  of  the  houses  for  the  sake  of  vio¬ 
lence,  and  fills  all  the  tribunals  with  the  noise  of  his  mis¬ 
deeds.”  .  .  .  His  quarrels  with  the  powerful  corporation 
of  the  citizens  of  Paris  were  incessant.  The  Pre-aux- 
Clercs,  where  some  students  gravely  walked  about  with 
their  books  in  their  hands  meditating  or  arguing  in  the 
Latin  tongue,  was  also  the  scene  of  tumultuous  acts. 

Great  liberty  fortified  by  numerous  privileges  was  al¬ 
lowed  to  the  students.  Each  one  lived  alone,  or  with  a 
comrade,  in  some  modest  hired  room,  where  his  little  col¬ 
lection  of  volumes  or  rolls  of  parchment,  generally  his 
only  possession,  was  not  always  safe  from  the  thieves  who 
roamed  about  the  great  city.  The  pupils  of  the  grammar 
class,  who  were  younger  and  generally  Parisians,  re¬ 
mained  under  the  parental  roof;  and  the  trip  to  school, 
which  they  had  to  make,  served  as  a  pretext  for  running 
at  large  throughout  the  city.  Others  came  from  distant 
countries,  were  under  no  oversight,  and  were  protected 
only  by  the  chiefs  of  their  “  nation.”  Some  were  noble¬ 
men,  some  of  the  middle  class,  but  they  were  not  rich,  for 
the  servants  of  the  university  lightened  their  purses  when 
it  was  necessary. 

In  order  to  meet  the  needs,  on  account  of  this  poverty, 

356 


Life  and  Interests  of  the  Students 


special  funds  were  placed  in  certain  churches.  The  stu¬ 
dents  also  aided  one  another.  The  cardinal  Eudes  de 
Chateauroux,  in  his  sermon  to  the  poor  students,  says  that 
it  is  the  duty  of  his  hearers  to  aid  their  brethren  liberally, 
as  they  are  all  equally  poor.  A  student  who  was  on  his 
death-bed  and  wished  to  leave  his  comrades  something  to 
be  given  in  alms  for  the  salvation  of  his  soul,  could  find 
nothing  except  his  shoes.  Another  employed  his  Sundays 
in  carrying  holy  water  for  private  houses,  “  according  to 
the  Gallican  custom,”  a  task  for  which  he  was  recom¬ 
pensed  by  small  sums  from  time  to  time,  and  by  curses 
and  blows.  Some  clerks  did  not  have  money  enough  to 
attend  the  lessons  in  theology.  Aside  from  the  pious 
foundations  destined  to  furnish  them  with  means,  they 
had,  as  a  resource,  the  liberality  of  some  doctors  who 
wrote,  for  their  use,  treatises  which  might  take  the  place 
in  part  of  the  official  lessons.  .  .  . 


357 


City  Life  in  Germany 

Adapted  from  K.  Lamprecht:  Deutsche  Geschichte, 

Vol.  IV,  1896,  pp.  21 1 -217 

IN  the  glorious  days  of  the  medieval  towns,  say  in  the 
second  half  of  the  fourteenth  century,  when  a  traveler 
approached  a  large  city,  its  very  appearance  suggested  to 
him  that  he  had  reached  his  journey’s  end.  Proudly  and 
almost  boastingly  the  silhouette  of  the  city  rose  from  the 
horizon,  with  its  turrets  and  towers,  its  chapels  and 
churches.  Even  then,  from  outside,  the  cities  showed  the 
same  elevation  that  is  familiar  to  us  from  the  great  wood- 
cuts  which  have  come  down  from  the  first  decades  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  although  in  the  latter  the  perspective 
is  somewhat  idealized. 

First  of  all,  its  strong  fortifications  impressed  the  trav¬ 
eler.  The  narrow  city  limits  included  normally  the  old 
city  market  and  often  a  much  larger  territory.  All  of  this 
was  embraced  in  the  fortifications.  Its  boundaries  were 
surrounded  by  ramparts  and  a  wall  with  a  ditch  in  front. 
This  was  often  strengthened  still  more  by  so-called  hedges  ' 
and  widely  projecting  watch-towers  at  regular  intervals 
Even  when  the  ramparts  were  less  strongly  fortified,  there 
was  at  least  a  beacon  with  a  wide  outlook.  Here  a  guard 
kept  watch,  and  by  signals  communicated  his  information 
to  the  garrison  within  the  city.  Frequently  these  beacons 

358 


City  Life  in  Germany 

were  buildings  of  great  extent  and  beautiful  proportions. 
There  are  still  some  which  adorn  all  the  country  round 
about,  like  the  beacon  at  Andernach.  In  the  larger  cities 
the  commander  of  the  beacon  directed  an  extensive  sys-  ' 
tern  of  communications  that  extended  beyond  the  limits  of 
the  city’s  territory,  and  at  times  assumed  the  form  of  a 
secret  service. 

When  the  stranger  was  admitted  through  the  barricade 
at  the  outposts  and  approached  the  city  more  closely,  he 
might  well  be  astonished,  even  in  the  smaller  cities,  by 
the  extent  of  the  fortifications  and  mass  of  towers  which 
surrounded  the  city,  especially  at  the  gates.  Until  well 
into  the  twelfth  century  the  walls  of  even  the  larger  cities 
had  been  simple  enough.  Earlier,  at  least  on  the  Rhine, 
the  old  Roman  walls  had  given  sufficient  protection,  until 
they  were  destroyed  by  the  assault  of  the  enemy  or  sacri¬ 
ficed  to  the  internal  need  for  building-space  when  the 
city’s  area  was  enlarged.  Then  simple  walls  of  earth, 
crowned  by  palisades,  with  fortifications  at  the  gate,  had 
sufficed.  But  since  the  twelfth  century  the  larger,  and 
since  the  thirteenth  the  smaller,  cities  had  done  more. 
Funds  were  collected  everywhere  “  for  the  work  of  the 
city.”  Everywhere  the  citizen  sought  permission  from 
the  lord  of  the  city  to  raise  a  special  tax  for  building 
purposes ;  sometimes  they  asked  the  monasteries  in  the 
city  to  contribute.  Thus  they  built  with  relatively  small 
means,  often  for  generations,  but  almost  always  with 
stubborn  energy.  From  the  old  earthen  wall  rose  arch 
upon  arch,  and  these  arches  supported  the  new  walls, 
which  often  reached  the  respectable  height  of  twenty-five 
to  thirty  feet.  And  while  the  walls  were  raised,  the 

359 


Medieval  Civilization 


ditches  were  at  the  same  time  deepened  and  broadened 
and  a  glacis  was  thrown  up  with  the  dirt  which  had  been 
excavated.  There  were  few  gates  in  the  walls,  and  these 
usually  opened  only  upon  the  chief  streets.  They  were 
considered  the  most  dangerous  points  in  the  fortifications, 
and  therefore  were  made  especially  strong.  The  gate  was 
built  with  a  pointed  arch,  and  flanked  on  each  side  by  a 
strong  tower.  Not  infrequently  the  whole  was  included 
in  a  new  defense  extending  to  the  city  proper.  There 
were  also  a  drawbridge  and  a  portcullis  behind  its  iron- 
bound  gate.  Thus  a  regular  castle  developed  at  the  gate, 
especially  in  the  north.  When  bricks  were  used  it  be¬ 
came  a  splendid  building.  For  this  reason  the  com¬ 
manders  of  the  several  gates  were  called  burggraves  in 
most  cities.  Paid  soldiers,  often  nobles  from  the  sur¬ 
rounding  country,  but  always  men  trained  to  arms  whose 
business  was  war,  were  expressly  engaged  by  the  city 
council.  They  furnished  a  small  garrison  for  the  gate : 
the  watchman  who  stood  on  the  lead  roof  of  the  gate- 
tower  and  in  case  of  danger  blew  his  horn ;  the  gate¬ 
keepers,  common  soldiers,  who  were  always  present  to 
manage  affairs  at  the  gate  and  under  some  circumstances 
had  to  help  the  officials  who  collected  the  tolls ;  lastly,  as 
it  often  happened  that  a  jail  was  connected  with  the  gate, 
they  supplied  keepers  for  the  prisoners  whom  the  city 
councilors  had  lodged  beneath  the  tower. 

In  addition  to  this  regular  garrison,  which  was  remark¬ 
ably  small,  there  were  usually,  in  times  of  peace,  only  a 
few  guards  posted  along  the  city  wall.  These  were  chosen 
from  the  citizens  and  relieved  every  day.  It  was  their 
duty  to  make  the  rounds  of  the  wall  regularly,  especially 

360 


City  Life  in  Germany 

during  the  night ;  for  this  service  a  path  was  made  along 
the  inner  side  of  the  wall.  But  it  was  realized  that  such 
an  arrangement  was  very  unsatisfactory.  Making  a  path 
necessitated  the  acquisition  of  expensive  land,  and  the 
guards  could  see,  on  their  rounds,  little  or  nothing  of 
what  went  on  outside  the  walls.  The  idea  of  placing  the 
walk  on  the  wall  itself  readily  occurred  to  them.  For  this 
reason  they  either  made  the  wall  broad  enough  to  have 
a  path  behind  the  battlements  which  crowned  it,  or  else 
built  a  wooden  walk  on  supports  at  the  top  of  the  battle¬ 
ments. 

While  they  thus  obtained  the  desired  security  for  the 
watchmen  on  duty,  careful  rules  were  made  for  calling 
all  the  citizens  to  arms.  For  military  purposes  most  cities 
were  divided  into  quarters,  each  of  which  had  its  own  place 
of  assembly  in  case  of  alarm ;  gathering  in  these  places, 
they  hastened  to  defend  the  walls.  About  every  hundred 
and  twenty  feet,  following  the  old  usage  of  the  long  hun¬ 
dred,  the  wall  was  interrupted  by  small  towers  (as,  for  ex¬ 
ample,  at  Wisby)  which  were  open  on  the  side  toward  the 
city  and  frequently  had  scarcely  any  roof ;  but  where  the 
path  for  the  guards  crossed  them  there  was  a  vaulted 
chamber  which  contained  a  regular  arsenal  of  catapults, 
bows  and  arrows,  as  well  as  covered  steps  leading  to  the 
top  of  the  wall.  Here  the  troops  stationed  at  the  different 
parts  of  the  wall  got  their  weapons,  and  issuing  forth,  ap¬ 
peared  unexpectedly  on  the  battlements  wherever  an 
attack  was  made. 

In  times  of  peace  any  one  who  looked  out  over  the 
country  from  these  battlements  enjoyed  a  very  delightful 
view.  In  the  foreground  of  the  ivy-covered  walls  of  the 

361 


Medieval  Civilization 


city  the  most  intensive  agriculture  was  practised.  Here 
plants  grown  for  commercial  purposes  flourished,  and  cul¬ 
tivation  with  the  spade  took  the  place  of  the  ruder  plow¬ 
ing.  In  the  level  country  beyond,  the  three-field  system, 
employing  only  a  small  number  of  cattle,  imposed  almost 
insuperable  obstacles  to  anything  more  than  meager  cul¬ 
tivation.  Even  the  largest  cities  still  retained  some  traces 
of  cultivation  in  common  on  a  large  scale ;  everywhere 
there  were  forests  belonging  to  the  city  community  as  a 
whole,  as  well  as  commons  to  which  the  cattle  of  the  citi¬ 
zens  were  driven  each  morning ;  and  there  were  city 
herdsmen  and  field  watchmen  appointed  by  the  councilors. 
But  as  fast  as  individual  citizens  acquired  a  private  prop¬ 
erty  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  city,  cultivation  with  the 
spade  spread  more  and  more.  Here  arose  vineyards  and 
vegetable  and  rose  gardens ;  hops,  flax,  and  woad  were 
planted.  And,  a  thing  that  may  at  first  view  appear  re¬ 
markable,  inside  the  city,  near  the  walls,  there  was  in 
many  parts  the  same  prospect  as  outside,  especially  in  the 
most  important  and  rapidly  growing  cities  which  had  ex¬ 
tended  their  walls.  Within  the  city  walls  there  were  also 
vineyards  and  cherry  orchards,  vegetable  and  flower 
gardens ;  and  skirting  them,  broad,'  dirty  streets,  with 
little  houses  filled  with  the  poor  agriculturists,  and  stately 
manure-heaps  in  front. 

The  aspect  of  the  cities  is  explained  by  the  fact  that  it 
was  not  so  very  long  since  they  had  broken  away  from 
the  system  of  natural  economy  which  had  prevailed  ex¬ 
clusively  up  to  that  time ;  the  traces  of  their  earlier  life, 
when  they  had  been  merely  larger  and  more  prosperous 
villages,  still  clung  to  them.  Most  cities  were  still  to 

362 


City  Life  in  Germany 

a  very  great  extent  engaged  in  agriculture ;  at  Coblenz, 
in  the  second  half  of  the  thirteenth  century,  work  on  the 
city  walls  had  to  be  given  up  during  harvest-time,  because 
of  the  lack  of  workmen;  at  Frankfort  in  the  year  1387 
the  city  employed  four  herdsmen  and  six  field-guards,  and 
even  in  the  fifteenth  century  a  strict  law  was  enacted 
against  allowing  pigs  to  run  about  in  the  city  streets. 
Even  in  the  largest  cities  there  are  very  many  indications 
of  the  activities  of  a  widely  extended  population  engaged 
in  agriculture.  Cattle-breeding  and  gardening  were  ac¬ 
tively  engaged  in  along  with  manufacturing  and  trade ; 
in  fact,  the  former  had  their  own  location  in  the  country 
before  the  gates,  as  well  as  in  the  parts  of  the  city  which 
lay  nearest  the  walls. 

Manufacturing  and  trade,  on  the  contrary,  were  located 
near  the  center.  Here  the  guilds  often  dwelt  together  in 
narrow  lanes  with  shops  opening  upon  the  street ;  here 
by  the  river  or  some  other  road  the  merchants  thronged  to 
the  warehouses ;  here  little  shops  of  the  retail  dealers 
were  snuggled  in  every  corner.  In  walking  through  this 
portion,  in  the  very  heart  of  the  city,  somewhere  around 
the  market  and  city  hall,  one  often  came  upon  a  few 
streets  shut  off  by  wooden  doors,  with  only  a  few  en¬ 
trances  and  very  compactly  built  up;  that  was  the  Jewish 
quarter.  Here  the  Jews’  school,  the  synagogue,  stood  in 
the  midst  of  the  congregation ;  until  the  middle  of  the 
fourteenth  century  it  was  often  a  splendid  Roman  or  early 
Gothic  building,  with  peculiar  Oriental  traces  of  a  mixed 
style;  here  the  bishop  of  the  Jews  ruled  with  his  elders 
and  kept  one  of  the  keys  with  which  the  doors  of  the 
quarter  were  locked  at  night  to  protect  from  the  rage  of 

363 


Medieval  Civilization 


the  populace  the  Jews,  who  were  considered  hostile  to  the 
citizens  both  in  economic  matters  and  because  of  their 
race. 

It  was  no  accident  that,  in  the  medieval  towns,  the 
kinds  and  locations  of  the  citizens’  activities  were  dis¬ 
tributed  in  this  way.  The  results  of  historical  evolution 
can  easily  be  recognized  in  the  fact  that  the  activities  in 
trade  and  manufacturing,  which  are  peculiarly  character¬ 
istic  of  a  city,  were  situated  at  the  center;  and  that,  on 
the  other  hand,  agricultural  occupations  were  carried  on 
in  the  outer  portion  of  the  city’s  area.  Until  some  time 
in  the  thirteenth  century  most  of  the  cities  had  been 
small.  In  the  west  they  were  often  surrounded  by  the 
walls  of  an  old  Roman  city  which  had  grown  out  of  a 
camp ;  in  the  east,  recently  founded  on  a  small  spot  of 
ground,  they  were  scarcely  more  than  large  castles.  This 
narrow  area  was  almost  the  only  scene  of  earnest  indus¬ 
trial  activity  and  extensive  intercourse  with  foreign  parts. 
But  about  this  center,  later  known  as  the  old  city,  re¬ 
ligious  societies  established  themselves  very  early  and 
acquired  widely  extended  possessions ;  sometimes  there 
were  more  than  a  half-dozen  monasteries  and  cloisters 
and  a  bishop’s  seat,  too,  which  with  their  property  sur¬ 
rounded  and  sometimes  crossed  the  center  of  the  city. 
When  the  development  of  city  life  began  in  the  twelfth 
and  thirteenth  centuries,  the  old  walls  were  destroyed ; 
generally  the  area  of  the  cities  began  to  be  extended ;  and 
usually  the  new  fortifications  were  placed  beyond  the 
circle  in  which  the  clerical  property  was  situated.  Thus  the 
rural  population  was  brought  into  the  city ;  it  was  a  long 
time  before  they  gave  up  their  old  occupations  and  mode 

364 


City  Life  in  Germany 

of  life ;  indeed,  they  were  strong  enough  to  create  outside 
of  the  city  walls  new  groups  of  fruit  and  vegetable  gar¬ 
dens.  In  time,  to  be  sure,  the  space  between  the  walls 
and  the  center  of  the  city,  which  had  once  been  covered 
with  gardens,  was  filled  with  streets,  and  again  the  sub¬ 
urbs  of  the  city  began  to  extend  beyond  the  gates.  But  the 
movement  in  this  direction  no  longer  proceeded  from  the 
lords  of  the  old  ecclesiastical  property :  they  had  fallen 
long  before ;  now  it  was  rather  the  business  interests  of 
the  city  itself  which  caused  a  new  settlement  at  this 
point.  Before  the  gates,  especially  in  the  neighborhood  of 
a  much  frequented  bridge,  suburbs  extended  in  long  rows 
of  streets,  with  low  hovels,  some  of  which  were  inhabited 
by  rough  people  with  interests  which  were  partly  rural 
and  partly  urban ;  these  often  found  expression  in  a 
special  government  for  the  community.  These  were  by 
no  means  the  pleasantest  portions  of  the  city ;  here  were 
the  retail  trades  in  their  most  humble  forms  and  the 
pawnshops ;  here  the  fortune-tellers  and  “  wise  women  ” 
lived  and  boasted  of  their  occupations ;  here  the  vaga¬ 
bonds  and  criminals  had  come  when,  by  the  extension  of 
the  city,  they  had  been  driven  out  of  their  caves  under  the 
city  walls,  and  with  them  all  sorts  of  evil-livers ;  here, 
too,  in  the  case  of  cities  which  made  cloth  on  a  large  scale, 
the  great  mass  of  the  poor  weavers  lived. 

It  was  the  dregs  of  the  population  that  lived  in  a  sub¬ 
urb.  Its  separation  from  the  city,  in  the  course  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  shows  that  from  this  time  we  can  date 
the  completion  of  one  stage  in  the  development  of  the 
city’s  population. 


365 


Advice  of  St.  Louis  to  his  Son 

Adapted  from  Bibliotheque  de  V  fecole  des  Chartes, 

Vol.  XXXIII,  1872,  pp.  424-442. 

1.  To  his  dear  first-born  son,  Philip,  greeting,  and  his 
father’s  love. 

2.  Dear  son,  since  I  desire  with  all  my  heart  that  you  be 
well  instructed  in  all  things,  it  is  in  my  thought  to  give 
you  some  advice  by  this  writing.  For  I  have  heard  you 
say,  several  times,  that  you  remember  my  words  better 
than  those  of  any  one  else. 

3.  Therefore,  dear  son,  the  first  thing  I  advise  is  that 
you  fix  your  whole  heart  upon  God,  and  love  Him  with  all 
your  strength,  for  without  this  no  one  can  be  saved  or  be 
of  any  worth. 

4.  You  should,  with  all  your  strength,  shun  everything 
which  you  believe  to  be  displeasing  to  Him.  And  you 
ought  especially  to  be  resolved  not  to  commit  mortal  sin, 
no  matter  what  may  happen,  and  you  should  permit  all 
your  limbs  to  be  hewn  off,  and  suffer  every  manner  of  tor¬ 
ment,  rather  than  fall  knowingly  into  mortal  sin. 

5.  If  our  Lord  send  you  any  adversity,  whether  illness 
or  other  thing,  you  should  receive  it  in  good  patience,  and 
thank  Him  for  it,  and  be  grateful  for  it,  for  you  ought  to 
believe  that  He  will  cause  everything  to  turn  out  for  your 

366 


Advice  of  St.  Louis  to  his  Son 


good ;  and  likewise  you  should  think  that  you  have  well 
merited  it,  and  more  also,  should  He  will  it,  because  you 
have  loved  Him  but  little,  and  served  Him  but  little,  and 
have  done  many  things  contrary  to  His  will. 

6.  If  our  Lord  send  you  any  prosperity,  either  health 
of  body  or  other  thing,  you  ought  to  thank  Him  humbly 
for  it,  and  you  ought  to  be  careful  that  you  are  not  the 
worse  for  it,  either  through  pride  or  anything  else,  for 
it  is  a  very  great  sin  to  fight  against  our  Lord  with  His 
gifts. 

7.  Dear  son,  I  advise  you  that  you  accustom  yourself 
to  frequent  confession,  and  that  you  choose  always,  as 
your  confessors,  men  who  are  upright  and  sufficiently 
learned,  and  who  can  teach  you  what  you  should  do  and 
what  you  should  avoid.  You  should  so  carry  yourself 
that  your  confessors  and  other  friends  may  dare  confi¬ 
dently  to  reprove  you  and  show  you  your  faults. 

8.  Dear  son,  I  advise  you  that  you  listen  willingly  and 
devoutly  to  the  services  of  Holy  Church,  and,  when  you 
are  in  church,  avoid  frivolity  and  trifling,  and  do  not 
look  here  and  there ;  but  pray  to  God  with  lips  and  heart 
alike,  while  entertaining  sweet  thoughts  about  Him,  and 
especially  at  the  mass,  when  the  body  and  blood  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  are  consecrated,  and  for  a  little  time 
before. 

9.  Dear  son,  have  a  tender  and  pitiful  heart  for  the 
poor,  and  for  all  those  whom  you  believe  to  be  in  misery 
of  heart  or  body,  and,  according  to  your  ability,  comfort 
and  aid  them  with  some  alms. 

10.  Maintain  the  good  customs  of  your  realm,  and  put 
down  the  bad  ones.  Do  not  oppress  your  people  and  do 

367 


Medieval  Civilization 


not  burden  them  with  tolls  or  tallies,  except  under  very 
great  necessity. 

11.  If  you  have  any  unrest  of  heart,  of  such  a  nature 
that  it  may  be  told,  tell  it  to  your  confessor,  or  to  some 
upright  man  who  can  keep  your  secret ;  you  will  be  able 
to  carry  more  easily  the  thought  of  your  heart. 

12.  See  to  it  that  those  of  your  household  are  upright 
and  loyal,  and  remember  the  Scripture,  which  says : 
“  Elige  viros  timentes  Deum  in  quibus  sit  jnsticia  et  qui 
oderint  avariciam;  ”  that  is  to  say,  “  Love  those  who 
serve  God  and  who  render  strict  justice  and  hate  covet¬ 
ousness  ;  ”  and  you  will  profit,  and  will  govern  your  king¬ 
dom  well. 

13.  Dear  son,  see  to  it  that  all  your  associates  are  up¬ 
right,  whether  clerics  or  laymen,  and  have  frequent  good 
converse  with  them ;  and  flee  the  society  of  the  bad.  And 
listen  willingly  to  the  word  of  God,  both  in  open  and  in 
secret ;  and  purchase  freely  prayers  and  pardons. 

14.  Love  all  good,  and  hate  all  evil,  in  whomsoever  it 
may  be. 

15.  Let  no  one  be  so  bold  as  to  say,  in  your  presence, 
words  which  attract  and  lead  to  sin,  and  do  not  permit 
words  of  detraction  to  be  spoken  of  another  behind  his 
back. 

16.  Suffer  it  not  that  any  ill  be  spoken  of  God  or  His 
saints  in  your  presence,  without  taking  prompt  vengeance. 
But  if  the  offender  be  a  clerk  or  so  great  a  person  that 
you  ought  not  to  try  him,  report  the  matter  to  him  who  is 
entitled  to  judge  it. 

17.  Dear  son,  give  thanks  to  God  often  for  all  the  good 
things  He  has  done  for  you,  so  that  you  may  be  worthy 

368 


Advice  of  St.  Louis  to  his  Son 


to  receive  more,  in  such  a  manner  that  if  it  please  the 
Lord  that  you  come  to  the  burden  and  honor  of  govern¬ 
ing  the  kingdom,  you  may  be  worthy  to  receive  the  sacred 
unction  wherewith  the  kings  of  France  are  consecrated. 

18.  Dear  son,  if  you  come  to  the  throne,  strive  to  have 
that  which  befits  a  king,  that  is  to  say,  that  in  justice  and 
rectitude  you  hold  yourself  steadfast  and  loyal  toward 
your  subjects  and  your  vassals,  without  turning  either  to 
the  right  or  to  the  left,  but  always  straight,  whatever  may 
happen.  And  if  a  poor  man  have  a  quarrel  with  a  rich 
man,  sustain  the  poor  rather  than  the  rich,  until  the  truth 
is  made  clear,  and  when  you  know  the  truth,  do  justice  to 
them. 

19.  If  any  one  have  entered  into  a  suit  against  you  (for 
any  injury  or  wrong  which  he  may  believe  that  you  have 
done  to  him),  be  always  for  him  and  against  yourself  in 
the  presence  of  your  council,  without  showing  that  you 
think  much  of  your  case  (until  the  truth  be  made  known 
concerning  it)  ;  for  those  of  your  council  might  be  back¬ 
ward  in  speaking  against  you,  and  this  you  should  not 
wish;  and  command  your  judges  that  you  be  not  in  any 
way  upheld  more  than  any  others,  for  thus  will  your  coun¬ 
cillors  judge  more  boldly  according  to  right  and  truth. 

20.  If  you  have  anything  belonging  to  another,  either 
of  yourself  or  through  your  predecessors,  if  the  matter  is 
certain,  give  it  up  without  delay,  however  great  it  may  be, 
either  in  land  or  money  or  otherwise.  If  the  matter  is 
doubtful,  have  it  inquired  into  by  wise  men,  promptly  and 
diligently.  And  if  the  affair  is  so  obscure  that  you  cannot 
know  the  truth,  make  such  a  settlement,  by  the  counsel  of 
upright  men,  that  your  soul,  and  the  souls  of  your  pre- 

369 


Medieval  Civilization 


decessors,  may  be  wholly  freed  from  the  affair.  And  even 
if  you  hear  some  one  say  that  your  predecessors  made  res¬ 
titution,  make  diligent  inquiry  to  learn  if  anything  re¬ 
mains  to  be  restored ;  and  if  you  find  that  such  is  the  case, 
cause  it  to  be  delivered  over  at  once,  for  the  liberation  of 
your  soul  and  the  souls  of  your  predecessors. 

21.  You  should  seek  earnestly  how  your  vassals  and 
your  subjects  may  live  in  peace  and  rectitude  beneath  your 
sway ;  likewise,  the  good  towns  and  the  good  cities  of 
your  kingdom.  And  preserve  them  in  the  estate  and  the 
liberty  in  which  your  predecessors  kept  them,  and  if  there 
be  anything  to  amend,  amend  and  redress  it,  and  preserve 
their  favor  and  their  love.  For  it  is  by  the  strength  and 
the  riches  of  your  good  cities  and  your  good  towns  that 
the  native  and  the  foreigner,  especially  your  peers  and 
your  barons,  are  deterred  from  doing  ill  to  you.  I  well 
remember  that  Paris  and  the  good  towns  of  my  kingdom 
aided  me  against  the  barons,  when  I  was  newly  crowned. 

22.  Honor  and  love  all  the  people  of  Holy  Church,  and 
be  careful  that  no  violence  be  done  to  them,  and  that  their 
gifts  and  alms,  which  your  predecessors  have  bestowed 
upon  them,  be  not  taken  away  or  diminished.  And  I  wish 
here  to  tell  you  what  is  related  concerning  King  Philip, 
my  ancestor,  as  one  of  his  council,  who  said  he  heard  it, 
told  it  to  me.  The  king,  one  day,  was  with  his  privy 
council,  and  he  was  there  who  told  me  these  words.  And 
one  of  the  king’s  councillors  said  to  him  how  much  wrong 
and  loss  he  suffered  from  those  of  Holy  Church,  in  that 
they  took  away  his  rights  and  lessened  the  jurisdiction  of 
his  court;  and  they  marveled  greatly  how  he  endured  it. 
And  the  good  king  answered :  “  I  am  quite  certain  that 

370 


Advice  of  St.  Louis  to  his  Son 


they  do  me  much  wrong,  but  when  I  consider  the  good¬ 
nesses  and  kindnesses  which  God  has  done  me,  I  had 
rather  that  my  rights  should  go,  than  have  a  contention 
or  awaken  a  quarrel  with  Holy  Church.”  And  this  I  tell 
to  you  that  you  may  not  lightly  believe  anything  against 
the  people  of  Holy  Church ;  so  love  them  and  honor 
them  and  watch  over  them  that  they  may  in  peace  do  the 
service  of  our  Lord. 

23.  Moreover,  I  advise  you  to  love  dearly  the  clergy, 
and,  so  far  as  you  are  able,  do  good  to  them  in  their 
necessities,  and  likewise  love  those  by  whom  God  is  most 
honored  and  served,  and  by  whom  the  Faith  is  preached 
and  exalted. 

24.  Dear  son,  I  advise  that  you  love  and  reverence  your 
father  and  your  mother,  willingly  remember  and  keep 
their  commandments,  and  be  inclined  to  believe  their  good 
counsels. 

25.  Love  your  brothers,  and  always  wish  their  well¬ 
being  and  their  good  advancement,  and  also  be  to  them 
in  the  place  of  a  father,  to  instruct  them  in  all  good.  But 
be  watchful  lest,  for  the  love  which  you  bear  to  one,  you 
turn  aside  from  right  doing,  and  do  to  the  others  that 
which  is  not  meet. 

26.  Dear  son,  I  advise  you  to  bestow  the  benefices  of 
Holy  Church  which  you  have  to  give,  upon  good  persons, 
of  good  and  clean  life,  and  that  you  bestow  them  with  the 
high  counsel  of  upright  men.  And  I  am  of  the  opinion 
that  it  is  preferable  to  give  them  to  those  who  hold  no¬ 
thing  of  Holy  Church,  rather  than  to  others.  For,  if  you 
inquire  diligently,  you  will  find  enough  of  those  who  have 
nothing  who  will  use  wisely  that  entrusted  to  them. 

371 


Medieval  Civilization 


27.  Dear  son,  I  advise  you  that  you  try  with  all  your 
strength  to  avoid  warring  against  any  Christian  man,  un¬ 
less  he  have  done  you  too  much  ill.  And  if  wrong  be 
done  you,  try  several  ways  to  see  if  you  can  find  how  you 
can  secure  your  rights,  before  you  make  war ;  and  act  thus 
in  order  to  avoid  the  sins  which  are  committed  in  warfare. 

28.  And  if  it  fall  out  that  it  is  needful  that  you  should 
make  war  (either  because  some  one  of  your  vassals  has 
failed  to  plead  his  case  in  your  court,  or  because  he  has 
done  wrong  to  some  church  or  to  some  poor  person,  or 
to  any  other  person  whatsoever,  and  is  unwilling  to  make 
amends  out  of  regard  for  you,  or  for  any  other  reasonable 
cause),  whatever  the  reason  for  which  it  is  necessary  for 
you  to  make  war,  give  diligent  command  that  the  poor 
folk  who  have  done  no  wrong  or  crime  be  protected  from 
damage  to  their  vines,  either  through  fire  or  otherwise,  for 
it  were  more  fitting  that  you  should  constrain  the  wrong¬ 
doer  by  taking  his  own  property  (either  towns  or  castles, 
by  force  of  siege),  than  that  you  should  devastate  the 
property  of  poor  people.  And  be  careful  not  to  start  the 
war  before  you  have  good  counsel  that  the  cause  is  most 
reasonable,  and  before  you  have  summoned  the  offender 
to  make  amends,  and  have  waited  as  long  as  you  should. 
And  if  he  ask  mercy,  you  ought  to  pardon  him,  and  accept 
his  amende,  so  that  God  may  be  pleased  with  you. 

29.  Dear  son,  I  advise  you  to  appease  wars  and  conten¬ 
tions,  whether  they  be  yours  or  those  of  your  subjects,  just 
as  quickly  as  may  be,  for  it  is  a  thing  most  pleasing  to 
our  Lord.  And  Monsignore  St.  Martin  gave  us  a  very 
great  example  of  this.  For,  one  time,  when  our  Lord 
made  it  known  to  him  that  he  was  about  to  die,  he  set  out 

372 


Advice  of  St.  Louis  to  his  Son 


to  make  peace  between  certain  clerks  of  his  archbishopric, 
and  he  was  of  the  opinion  that  in  so  doing  he  was  giving 
a  good  end  to  his  life. 

30.  Seek  diligently,  most  sweet  son,  to  have  good 
baillis  and  good  prevots  in  your  land,  and  inquire  fre¬ 
quently  concerning  their  doings,  and  how  they  conduct 
themselves,  and  if  they  administer  justice  well,  and  do  no 
wrong  to  any  one,  nor  anything  which  they  ought  not  do. 
Inquire  more  often  concerning  those  of  your  household 
than  of  any  others,  and  learn  if  they  be  too  covetous  or 
too  arrogant ;  for  it  is  natural  that  the  members  should 
seek  to  imitate  their  chief  ;  that  is,  when  the  master  is  wise 
and  well-behaved,  all  those  of  his  household  follow  his 
example  and  prefer  it.  For  however  much  you  ought  to 
hate  evil  in  others,  you  should  have  more  hatred  for  the 
evil  which  comes  from  those  who  derive  their  power  from 
you,  than  you  bear  to  the  evil  of  others ;  and  the  more 
ought  you  to  be  on  your  guard  and  prevent  this  from  hap¬ 
pening. 

31.  Dear  son,  I  advise  you  always  to  be  devoted  to  the 
Church  of  Rome,  and  to  the  sovereign  pontiff,  our  father, 
and  to  bear  him  the  reverence  and  honor  which  you  owe 
to  your  spiritual  father. 

32.  Dear  son,  freely  give  power  to  persons  of  good 
character,  who  know  how  to  use  it  well,  and  strive  to  have 
wickednesses  expelled  from  your  land,  that  is  to  say,  nasty 
oaths,  and  everything  said  or  done  against  God  or  our 
Lady  or  the  saints.  In  a  wise  and  proper  manner  put  a 
stop,  in  your  land,  to  bodily  sins,  dicing,  taverns,  and  other 
sins.  Put  down  heresy  so  far  as  you  can,  and  hold  in 
especial  abhorrence  Jews,  and  all  sorts  of  people  who  are 

373 


Medieval  Civilization 


hostile  to  the  Faith,  so  that  your  land  may  be  well  purged 
of  them,  in  such  manner  as,  by  the  sage  counsel  of  good 
people,  may  appear  to  you  advisable. 

33.  Further  the  right  with  all  your  strength.  More¬ 
over,  I  admonish  you  that  you  strive  most  earnestly  to 
show  your  gratitude  for  the  benefits  which  our  Lord  has 
bestowed  upon  you,  and  that  you  may  know  how  to  give 
Him  thanks  therefor. 

34.  Dear  son,  take  care  that  the  expenses  of  your  house¬ 
hold  are  reasonable  and  moderate,  and  that  its  moneys  are 
justly  obtained.  And  there  is  one  opinion  that  I  deeply 
wish  you  to  entertain,  that  is  to  say,  that  you  keep  your¬ 
self  free  from  foolish  expenses  and  evil  exactions,  and  that 
your  money  should  be  well  expended  and  well  acquired. 
And  this  opinion,  together  with  other  opinions  which  are 
suitable  and  profitable,  I  pray  that  our  Lord  may  teach 
you. 

35.  Finally,  most  sweet  son,  I  conjure  and  require  you 
that,  if  it  please  our  Lord  that  I  should  die  before  you,  you 
have  my  soul  succored  with  masses  and  orisons,  and  that 
you  send  through  the  congregations  of  the  kingdom  of 
France,  and  demand  their  prayers  for  my  soul,  and  that 
you  grant  me  a  special  and  full  part  in  all  the  good  deeds 
which  you  perform. 

36.  In  conclusion,  dear  son,  I  give  you  all  the  blessings 
which  a  good  and  tender  father  can  give  to  a  son,  and  I 
pray  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by  His  mercy,  by  the 
prayers  and  merits  of  His  blessed  Mother,  the  Virgin 
Mary,  and  of  angels  and  archangels  and  of  all  the  saints, 
to  guard  and  protect  you  from  doing  anything  con¬ 
trary  to  His  will,  and  to  give  you  grace  to  do  it  always, 

374 


Advice  of  St.  Louis  to  his  Son 


so  that  He  may  be  honored  and  served  by  you.  And 
this  may  He  do  to  me  as  to  you,  by  His  great  bounty,  so 
that  after  this  mortal  life  we  may  be  able  to  be  together 
with  Him  in  the  eternal  life,  and  see  Him,  love  Him,  and 
praise  Him  without  end.  Amen.  And  glory,  honor,  and 
praise  be  to  Him  who  is  one  God  with  the  Father  and  the 
Holy  Spirit ;  without  beginning  and  without  end.  Amen. 


375 


Life  of  Gerbert 


Adapted  from  Julien  Havet’s  Introduction  to  the  Lettres  de 
Gerbert,  1889,  pp.  v-xxxviii. 

ERBERT  was  born  of  obscure  and  poor  parents  in 


Vj  central  France,  between  940  and  945  a.d.  He  was 
educated  at  Aurillac,  in  the  Benedictine  monastery  of  St. 
Geraud,  of  which  Geraud  of  Cere  was  abbot.  He  learned 
grammar  there,  that  is  to  say,  Latin,  and  had  as  his  master 
the  monk  Raymond,  who  afterward  succeeded  Geraud  as 


abbot. 


About  967  Borel,  count  of  Barcelona  and  duke  of  the 
Spanish  March  (a  province  which  was  then  a  part  of 
France),  came  to  Aurillac  on  a  pilgrimage.  The  abbot, 
Geraud,  asked  him  if  there  were  in  his  country  scholars 
versed  in  the  sciences,  and,  being  answered  in  the  affirm¬ 
ative,  begged  the  duke  to  take  Gerbert  and  have  him 
taught.  Borel  entrusted  this  duty  to  Atto,  bishop  of  Vich. 
Gerbert  acquired,  during  his  stay  in  Spain,  a  profound 
knowledge  of  mathematics.  Perhaps,  thanks  to  the  near¬ 
ness  of  the  Mussulmans,  who  held  the  remainder  of  the 
peninsula,  something  of  the  teaching  of  the  Arab  mathe¬ 
maticians  had  passed  into  the  Christian  schools  of  the 
Spanish  March. 

In  970,  Borel  went  to  Rome  and  took  Atto  and  Gerbert 
with  him.  The  pope  remarked  the  mathematical  acquire- 


376 


Life  of  Gerbert 

merits  of  Gerbert,  and  spoke  of  him  to  the  emperor,  Otto 
I,  who  was  then  in  Italy.  Otto  induced  Gerbert  to  reside 
at  his  court  and  teach  mathematics  to  chosen  students. 

Gerbert  was  less  anxious  to  teach  what  he  knew  than 
to  learn  what  he  did  not  know,  and  said  to  Otto  I  that, 
in  truth,  he  knew  mathematics  fairly  well,  but  that  he 
wished  to  learn  logic,  or,  as  we  would  say,  philosophy. 
He  very  soon  obtained  an  opportunity  to  satisfy  this  de¬ 
sire.  He  had  been  in  Italy  about  a  year  when  there  came 
to  the  imperial  court  an  archdeacon  of  Reims,  who  had 
been  sent  on  an  embassy  by  King  Lothair ;  this  man  was 
a  certain  G - ,  who  had  a  great  reputation  as  a  philoso¬ 

pher.  Gerbert  asked  and  secured  permission  to  accom¬ 
pany  him  on  his  return  to  France,  and  they  reached  Reims 
together  about  972.  Gerbert  gave  his  companion  lessons 
in  mathematics,  and  in  exchange  received  from  him  les¬ 
sons  in  philosophy.  But  the  archdeacon  found  insur¬ 
mountable  difficulties  in  the  rules  of  music— a  study 
which  was  then  included  among  the  mathematical 
branches.  On  the  other  hand,  the  young  monk  very  soon 
knew  as  much  about  philosophy  as  his  master  did.  Thus 
he  completed  his  instruction  in  all  the  branches  of  human 
knowledge. 

His  varied  attainments  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
archbishop  of  Reims,  Adalbero,  a  pious  and  enlightened 
prelate,  who  was  zealously  laboring  to  maintain  order 
and  discipline  among  the  clergy  of  his  diocese.  This 
was  the  beginning  of  a  friendship  which  lasted  until  the 
death  of  the  archbishop  and  occupied  a  large  place  in 
the  life  of  Gerbert. 

There  was  at  that  time,  in  every  cathedral  church,  a 

377 


Medieval  Civilization 

school  which  was  under  the  authority  of  the  bishop  and 
was  directed  by  a  clerk,  who  was  called  the  scholasticus. 
Adalbero  appointed  Gerbert  scholasticus  of  Reims.  He 
had  every  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  his  choice.  The 
young  teacher  introduced  into  his  instruction  new  meth¬ 
ods,  as  well  as  ideas  hitherto  ignored.  His  reputation 
spread  throughout  all  Europe,  and  pupils  came  to  him 
from  all  parts.  Thus  passed  about  ten  years,  the  most 
tranquil,  and  probably  the  happiest  of  his  life  (972- 
982).  Only  one  incident  of  this  period  is  known  to 
us.  It  redounded  to  his  glory  and  hastened  his  good 
fortune. 

In  the  heart  of  Germany,  at  Magdeburg,  there  was  a 
celebrated  teacher  named  Otric.  The  fame  of  Gerbert’s 
teaching  displeased  him.  He  sent  an  emissary  to  Reims, 
with  instructions  to  listen  to  the  lessons  of  the  scholas¬ 
ticus,  and  to  report  what  he  heard.  The  envoy  per¬ 
formed  his  mission  badly,  and  reported  inexactly  the 
instruction  of  Gerbert  upon  a  scholastic  detail ;  Otric 
believed  that  his  rival  had  made  a  mistake  and  hastened 
to  publish  the  error.  But  Otto  II  had  confidence  in  the 
learning  of  Gerbert :  he  had  seen  and  heard  him  in  Italy 
several  years  before  (971-972)  ;  he  could  hardly  believe 
Gerbert  capable  of  the  error  attributed  to  him,  and  re¬ 
solved  to  put  his  talent  to  the  proof.  The  next  year  he 
went  to  Italy,  accompanied  by  Otric,  and,  at  Pavia,  fell 
in  with  Archbishop  Adalbero  and  his  scholasticus,  who 
were  going  to  Rome,  for  some  purpose  unknown  to  us 
(December,  980).  He  invited  them  to  join  his  court, 
and,  embarking  upon  a  flotilla,  they  all  descended  the  Po 
and  landed  at  Ravenna.  Here,  by  his  orders,  a  public 

378 


Life  of  Gerbert 

discussion  was  held  between  the  two  rivals  in  the  pres¬ 
ence  of  a  great  number  of  scholars  (December,  980,  or 
January,  981).  It  lasted  a  whole  day  and  turned  alto¬ 
gether  upon  metaphysical  points.  One  cannot  read  the 
report  of  it  given  in  the  Chronicle  of  the  monk  Richer 
without  being  astonished  at  the  futility  of  the  debate  over 
words,  which  at  that  time  passed  for  scientific  problems, 
and  at  the  patience  of  the  emperor,  sovereign  of  three 
kingdoms,  who  could  give  hours  to  such  an  occupation. 
Richer  adds  that  the  victory  rested  with  Gerbert,  who 
refuted,  in  all  particulars,  the  arguments  of  his  rival. 
After  the  termination  of  this  scholastic  tournament,  Ger¬ 
bert,  in  company  with  the  archbishop,  returned  to  Reims, 
loaded  with  gifts  from  the  emperor. 

The  most  beautiful  gift,  however,  was  received  by  him 
two  years  later,  when  Otto  II  called  him  to  govern  the 
abbey  of  St.  Columban  at  Bobbio,  in  the  Apennines 
(983).  This  was  one  of  the  richest  benefices  in  Italy. 
Gerbert,  who  was  born  poor,  was  entitled  to  love  money, 
for  he  made  a  most  honorable  use  of  it.  His  greatest 
expenditures  were  for  the  increase  of  his  library.  He 
accepted  the  emperor’s  offer  and  took  an  oath  of  fidelity 
to  him — the  first  in  his  life.  Henceforth  he  must  have 
ceased  to  consider  himself  a  Frenchman;  he  recognized, 
as  was  his  feudal  duty,  the  emperor  to  whom  he  had 
plighted  his  word  as  his  sole  master  and  sovereign.  He 
remained  faithful  to  the  allegiance  thus  contracted,  and 
was,  his  life  long,  one  of  the  most  devoted  and  disinter¬ 
ested  servants  of  the  imperial  house. 

The  post  which  Otto  II  had  given  him  was  one  of  con¬ 
fidence.  The  abbot  of  Bobbio  was  a  political  personage ; 


379 


Medieval  Civilization 

he  bore  the  title  of  count  and  had  vassals  who  owed  mili¬ 
tary  service.  The  emperor,  who  had  only  a  moderate 
faith  in  his  Italian  subjects,  required  Gerbert  to  reside  in 
his  abbey.  He  obeyed  this  command,  but  he  did  not 
leave  Reims  without  the  expectation  of  returning.  He 
did  not  even  take  his  books  with  him ;  he  left  them  at 
Reims,  locked  up  in  chests  whose  keys  he  bore  with  him 
to  Italy. 

He  found  the  greatest  disorder  at  Bobbio.  The  posses¬ 
sions  of  the  abbey  had  been  despoiled.  His  predecessor, 
the  abbot  Petroald,  who  belonged  to  an  influential  family, 
had  made  friends  by  renting  the  lands  of  the  monastery 
at  very  low  rates  to  the  lesser  nobility  of  the  neighbor¬ 
hood.  The  emperor  had  removed  him  and  reduced  him 
to  the  rank  of  a  simple  monk ;  nevertheless,  he  had  re¬ 
tained  the  enjoyment  of  a  portion  of  the  abbot’s  revenues, 
and  Otto  II  advised  Gerbert  not  to  disturb  him.  Gerbert, 
a  Frenchman,  accustomed  to  the  strict  discipline  of  the 
monasteries  of  Aurillac  and  Reims,  could  not  participate 
in  these  irregularities.  With  more  vehemence  than 
policy,  he  claimed  the  restoration  of  the  goods  of  the 
abbey  and  repudiated  the  leases  made  by  Petroald.  He 
made  a  number  of  enemies ;  several  of  them  had  powerful 
protectors,  and  Gerbert  soon  found  himself  at  logger- 
heads  with  personages  of  considerable  importance,  for 
example,  Peter,  bishop  of  Pavia,  who  some  months  later 
became  Pope  John  XIV,  and  the  empress  Adelaide,  widow 
of  Otto  I  and  mother  of  the  reigning  emperor.  Thanks 
to  the  great  power  of  Otto  II,  he  gained  his  object,  but 
the  irritation  only  became  greater  and  revealed  itself  in 
coarse  sarcasms,  some  of  which  were  aimed  at  him,  and 

380 


Life  of  Gerbert 

others  at  his  sovereign.  When  Otto  II  died  suddenly  at 
Rome  (December  7,  983)  and  left  his  throne  to  a  three- 
year-old  son,  Gerbert,  who  was  then  at  the  imperial  palace 
in  Pavia,  learned  that  the  monks  had  renounced  his 
authority  and  that  Bobbio  was  being  pillaged.  Neither 
the  pope  nor  the  empress  Adelaide,  both  of  whom  he  had 
offended,  could  be  expected  to  intervene  in  his  behalf ; 
the  other  empress,  Theophano  the  Greek,  widow  of  Otto 
II  and  mother  of  the  new  king,  Otto  III,  had  more  press¬ 
ing  cares.  Gerbert  returned  to  France,  carrying  with 
him  only  the  empty  title  of  abbot  and  the  memory  of  his 
abbacy  (984). 

He  had  spent  less  than  a  year  at  Bobbio.  He  had  had 
only  sufficient  time  to  cast  his  eye  over  the  library  of  the 
monastery  and  to  find  that  it  contained  books  of  science 
which  interested  him  much ;  he  had  not  been  able  to  have 
them  copied,  and  probably  had  not  read  them.  Five 
years  later  he  still  regretted  this,  and,  on  two  occasions, 
he  wrote  to  Italy  to  obtain  copies  of  the  precious  volumes. 

Returning  to  Reims,  he  resumed  his  duties  as  scholas- 
ticus!  But  hereafter  politics  occupied  him  as  much  as 
study.  He  had  become  the  vassal  of  the  emperor  on  re¬ 
ceiving  from  him  the  abbey  of  Bobbio,  and  did  not  be¬ 
lieve  himself  released  from  his  duty  by  the  loss  of  the 
benefice  or  the  death  of  his  lord.  He  thought  that  he 
owed  to  the  little  king,  Otto  III,  and  his  mother,  Theo¬ 
phano,  the  same  fidelity  which  he  had  given  to  Otto  II. 
Archbishop  Adalbero  was  of  the  same  opinion,  although 
externally  his  position  was  quite  different.  As  archbishop 
of  Reims  and  grand  chancellor  of  France,  he  was  above 
all  the  vassal  of  the  king  of  France,  and  was  bound  to 

38i 


Medieval  Civilization 

recognize  him  as  his  principal  lord ;  but  as  a  noble,  he 
could  not,  as  easily  as  the  plebeian  Gerbert,  forget  his 
birth.  His  family  was  one  of  the  first  in  the  kingdom 
of  Lorraine,  which  was  one  of  the  states  at  that  time 
composing  the  realm  of  the  king  of  Germany.  His 
brother,  Count  Godfrey,  was  regarded  as  one  of  the  best 
servants  of  Otto  II.  He  himself  had  been  at  first  a  canon 
at  Metz,  in  Lorraine,  and  even  at  Reims  his  spiritual  and 
temporal  power  was  not  restricted  to  the  French  side  of 
the  frontier ;  for  a  part  of  his  diocese  and  two  of  his  cas¬ 
tles,  Mouzon  and  Mezieres,  were  in  Lorraine.  He  was 
under  obligations  to  Otto  I,  and  we  have  seen  that  he  had 
been  received  with  honor  at  the  court  of  Otto  II.  Thus 
both  the  archbishop  and  the  scholasticus,  although  dwell¬ 
ing  in  a  French  city,  had  their  eyes  turned  to  Germany, 
and  were  interested,  above  all,  in  what  was  occurring  in 
the  neighboring  kingdom. 

At  that  time,  the  throne  and  the  life  of  the  young  Otto 
III  were  threatened  by  a  turbulent  and  unscrupulous 
prince,  Henry,  duke  of  Bavaria,  and  first  cousin  of  Otto 
II,  who  had,  ten  years  before,  been  implicated  in  an  at¬ 
tempted  revolt  against  the  emperor.  At  the  news  of  the 
death  of  Otto  II,  which  was  not  known  in  Germany  until 
the  last  part  of  December,  983,  or  the  first  part  of  Janu¬ 
ary,  984,  Henry  took  advantage  of  the  absence  of  the 
empress-mother,  Theophano,  in  Italy,  to  demand  the 
guardianship  of  the  young  king  and  to  seize  his  person. 
On  Easter  Sunday,  March  23,  984,  he  called  together,  at 
Ouedlinburg,  an  assembly  of  some  nobles  devoted  to  his 
cause  and  had  himself  saluted  by  them  as  king.  This 
criminal  attempt  offended  the  greater  number  of  the 

382 


Life  of  Gerbert 

nobles  of  Germany  and  of  Lorraine,  and  they  combined 
to  defend  the  rights  of  the  imperial  infant  and  of  the 
empress.  Adalbero  and  Gerbert  took  up  the  cause  with 
ardor.  The  archbishop,  by  virtue  of  his  rank  and  his 
birth,  had  great  influence  in  Lorraine  and  in  Germany ; 
Gerbert  had  a  talent  for  writing,  appreciated  by  all  his 
contemporaries,  a  chaste  and  vigorous  style  and  lofty 
and  winning  eloquence.  They  united  their  strength : 
letters  written  in  the  name  of  the  archbishop,  but  drawn 
up  by  Gerbert,  were  sent  to  various  great  personages  of 
Germany  to  stir  up  their  zeal  against  the  usurper.  It  is 
difficult  to  read  these  letters  and  believe  that  they  could 
have  been  without  effect.  At  the  same  time,  Adalbero 
induced  the  king  of  France,  Lothair,  who  was  married 
to  a  sister  of  Otto  II,  to  declare  himself  guardian  and 
protector  of  his  nephew,  Otto  III.  Henry  was  terrified 
and  yielded ;  he  surrendered  the  little  Otto  to  his  mother 
and  his  grandmother,  the  empresses  Theophano  and 
Adelaide,  who  had  been  recalled  from  Italy  in  all  haste 
by  their  supporters  (June,  984),  and,  at  Worms  (Octo¬ 
ber,  984),  he  made  a  treaty  with  them,  by  which  he 
seemed  definitely  to  give  up  his  claims. 

It  was  only  a  feint.  The  peace  had  hardly  been  made 
when  Henry  entered  into  negotiations  with  Lothair,  and 
offered  in  exchange  for  his  support  to  give  up  Lorraine 
to  France.  The  king  of  France,  won  over  by  such  an 
advantageous  offer,  agreed  to  meet  Henry  at  Alt-Brei- 
sach,  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Rhine,  on  February  I,  985. 
Gerbert,  who  had  an  admirably  organized  secret-service 
system,  learned  of  the  plot  and  hastened  to  warn  his 
friends  in  Lorraine.  He  strove  at  first  to  gain  for  Otto 

383 


Medieval  Civilization 

III,  against  Henry  and  Lothair,  the  alliance  of  the  most 
powerful  French  noble,  Hugh,  duke  of  France,  whom 
modern  historians  called  Hugh  Capet.  His  attempt, 
which  was  badly  supported,  failed,  but  he  at  least  was 
successful  in  securing  the  neutrality  of  Hugh,  and  this 
was  worth  a  great  deal.  Lothair,  when  he  arrived  at 
Breisach,  did  not  find  Henry,  whose  courage  had  failed 
a  second  time.  Nevertheless  the  king  of  France  single- 
handed  undertook  the  conquest  of  Lorraine  (February- 
March,  985).  He  besieged  Verdun,  took  it,  almost  imme¬ 
diately  lost  it,  and  then  regained  it.  The  second  time  that 
he  won  it,  he  captured  the  defenders  of  the  city,  the 
elite  of  the  Lorraine  nobility :  Count  Godfrey,  brother  of 
Archbishop  Adalbero,  Frederick,  son  of  Godfrey,  Sieg- 
frid,  his  uncle,  and  others.  He  left  a  garrison  in  Verdun 
and  carried  his  prisoners  to  France,  where  he  entrusted 
them  to  the  keeping  of  two  of  his  vassals,  who  imprisoned 
them  in  a  castle  on  the  Marne  (March,  985). 

Gerbert  obtained  from  these  vassals  permission  to  visit 
the  prisoners.  It  is  still  hard  to  understand  how  he  ob¬ 
tained  this  permission,  for  he  did  not  take  pains  to  hide 
his  fidelity  to  the  empress.  However  that  may  be,  he 
was  able  to  enter  the  castle  where  the  Lorraine  counts 
were  imprisoned,  and  talked  with  them  in  private.  He 
was  commissioned  by  Godfrey  to  write  on  his  behalf  to 
his  wife,  sons  and  friends,  and  to  Theophano.  To  all 
he  made  the  same  recommendation :  continue  the  strug¬ 
gle  unceasingly ;  do  not  worry  over  the  lot  of  the  prison¬ 
ers  :  “Cause  the  enemy  to  feel  that  he  has  not  captured 
the  whole  of  Godfrey.”  Nothing  is  more  generous  than 
the  sentiment  which  dictated  this  advice;  nothing  more 

384 


Life  of  Gerbert 

engaging  than  the  language  in  which  Gerbert  knew  how 
to  put  it. 

Archbishop  Adalbero  could  not,  like  Gerbert,  make  a 
public  avowal  of  his  sentiments.  Although  naturally  at¬ 
tached  to  the  cause  of  his  brother  and  nephews  and  de¬ 
voted  with  his  whole  heart  to  the  empress,  he  had 
officially  to  serve  their  enemy,  the  king  of  France.  He 
dissimulated,  but  only  half-deceived  Lothair.  The  latter 
dictated  to  him  letters  which  were  to  be  sent  to  the 
prelates  of  Lorraine;  the  archbishop  obeyed,  and  then 
caused  other  letters  to  be  written  secretly  by  Gerbert. 
which  gave  the  lie  to  the  first  ones.  He  could  not  avoid 
furnishing  to  the  king,  his  suzerain,  a  contingent  of 
troops  for  the  garrison  of  Verdun,  but  he  did  not  obey 
the  king’s  orders,  and  gave  him  bad  advice.  When  he 
had  information  to  send  to  the  enemy,  Gerbert  trans¬ 
mitted  it  in  his  own  name,  in  order  not  to  compromise 
his  master.  Lothair,  until  the  end  of  his  life,  suspected 
the  bishop  of  treason,  but  the  latter,  cleverly  aided  by 
his  scholasticus,  found  a  way  to  elude  the  royal  sur¬ 
veillance. 

Lothair  died  March  2,  986,  and  was  succeeded  by  his 
son,  Louis  V,  who  had  been  his  associate  since  979.  For 
the  moment,  Adalbero  and  Gerbert  believed  themselves 
masters  of  the  situation.  Emma,  mother  of  the  new 
king,  and  widow  of  Lothair,  was  a  daughter  of  the  old 
empress,  Adelaide,  and  aunt  of  Otto  III ;  all  her  sympa¬ 
thies  were  with  Germany.  The  very  day  of  Lothair’s 
death  she  recalled  the  archbishop  of  Reims  to  the  court, 
caused  or  permitted  several  of  the  Lorraine  prisoners  to 
be  liberated,  and  took  Gerbert  for  her  secretary.  She 

385 


Medieval  Civilization 

opened  peace  negotiations  with  the  imperial  court.  But 
the  new  king  soon  perceived  that  his  mother  was  serving 
the  enemies  of  his  kingdom  and  broke  with  her  and  her 
counselors.  Adalbero,  threatened  by  the  royal  troops 
in  his  metropolitan  city,  saved  his  life  only  by  giving 
pledges  of  submission.  He  was  summoned  to  appear 
before  the  court  of  the  king  under  an  accusation  of 
treason.  In  the  meantime  the  peace  negotiations  were 
continued,  and  Gerbert  still  found  it  possible  to  employ 
himself  actively  with  them,  but  they  did  not  terminate 
in  any  definite  result.  An  accident  changed  the  situation : 
Louis  V,  while  hunting,  fell  from  his  horse,  and  died  at 
Senlis,  May  21  or  22,  987,  fourteen  months  after  his 
father,  leaving  the  throne  vacant.  At  this  epoch,  corona¬ 
tion  alone  made  the  king,  and  there  was  no  crowned 
king.  By  birth,  Charles,  duke  of  lower  Lorraine,  brother 
of  Lothair,  seemed  entitled  to  the  throne,  but  Archbishop 
Adalbero  preferred  to  call  to  the  throne  Hugh,  the  pow¬ 
erful  duke  of  France,  who  was  a  first  cousin  of  Lothair 
in  the  female  line.  The  coup  was  executed  with  mar¬ 
velous  promptitude.  The  day  after  the  royal  funeral,  an 
assembly  of  nobles  of  the  court —principes — presided  over 
by  the  duke,  acquitted  the  archbishop  of  the  charge 
brought  against  him.  Some  days  later,  an  assembly  of 
the  same  nobles,  presided  over  by  the  archbishop,  con¬ 
ferred  the  crown  upon  the  duke.  Ten  days  after  the 
death  of  Louis  V,  Hugh  was  crowned  at  Noyon  (June  1, 
987),  and,  five  weeks  later,  was  consecrated  at  Reims. 
The  Capetian  dynasty  was  founded. 

This  revolution  was  apparently  the  work  of  Adalbero, 
but  really  that  of  Gerbert.  A  word  let  fall  by  his  pen 

386 


Life  of  Gerbert 

two  years  later  shows  this.  Adalbero  had  died.  Charles, 
seeking  to  reconquer  the  throne  of  which  he  had  been 
deprived,  had  taken  possession  of  Reims.  Gerbert  was 
denounced  to  the  angry  pretender  as  the  man  who,  he 
tells  us,  “deposed  and  set  up  kings.”  Thus  the  arch¬ 
bishop  of  Reims,  in  this  matter,  had  acted,  as  always,  in 
agreement  with  his  scholasticus,  and,  indeed,  under  his 
inspiration. 

Gerbert  was,  as  has  been  seen,  wholly  devoted  to  the 
family  of  the  Ottos.  If,  then,  he  thought  it  wise  to 
cause  Hugh  to  be  made  king  of  France,  he  must  have 
believed  that  this  would  be  advantageous  to  Germany. 
His  motives  are  not  hard  to  divine.  Charles,  who  held 
lower  Lorraine  of  Otto  III,  had  not  proved  a  good 
vassal.  He  had  participated  in  the  attempts  of  Lothair 
to  unite  Lorraine  to  France  and  to  put  Henry  of  Bavaria 
or.  the  throne  of  Germany.  If  Charles  became  king  of 
France,  he  would  probably  continue  the  war  and  would 
be  all  the  more  anxious  to  annex  Lorraine,  since  this 
would  be  the  means  of  uniting  his  duchy  to  his  kingdom. 
Hugh,  on  the  contrary,  had  given  Germany  pledges  of 
his  good  will.  During  the  last  war,  instead  of  aiding 
his  sovereigns,  Lothair  and  Louis  V,  in  their  struggle 
against  the  foreigner,  he  had  maintained  toward  them  a 
threatening  neutrality.  Moreover,  his  only  son,  Robert, 
then  about  thirteen  years  of  age,  was  a  pupil  of  Gerbert 
and  the  latter  might  well’ hope  to  influence  the  father 
through  the  son.  In  conclusion,  the  duke,  in  order  to 
gain  the  throne,  would  undoubtedly  be  only  too  happy  to 
make  all  the  concessions  that  could  be  asked  of  him ;  all 
that  would  be  necessary  would  be  to  dictate  conditions  to 

387 


Medieval  Civilization 

him.  These  conditions  were  a  definitive  peace  with  Ger¬ 
many,  the  liberation  of  Count  Godfrey,  and  the  abandon¬ 
ment  of  all  attempts  upon  the  eastern  frontier. 

Godfrey  was  set  at  liberty  three  weeks  after  the  coro¬ 
nation  of  Hugh.  Hostilities  were  terminated  between 
the  two  countries.  The  roads  were  again  free,  and  Arch¬ 
bishop  Adalbero,  released  from  the  burden  of  public 
affairs,  was  able  to  announce  his  intention  of  making  a 
pilgrimage  to  Germany.  Thus  the  kingdom  of  Lorraine, 
which  the  kings  of  France  and  of  Germany  had  been 
disputing  for  a  century,  was  acquired  by  the  Germans. 
Even  the  name  of  this  kingdom  was  quickly  forgotten, 
and  the  time  came  when  the  dwellers  on  the  banks  of  the 
Meuse  could  say,  in  good  faith,  that  they  belonged  to 
the  “kingdom  of  Germany.”  Gerbert,  in  excluding  from 
the  throne  of  France  the  last  descendants  of  Charlemagne, 
had  done  a  great  service  to  the  country  of  his  adoption. 
Not  until  three  centuries  after  Hugh  Capet,  in  the  days 
of  Philip  the  Rash  and  Philip  the  Fair,  were  French 
kings  found  who  seriously  attempted  to  gain  for  France 
some  portion  of  Carolingian  Lorraine. 

The  archbishop  and  the  scholasticus  of  Reims,  more¬ 
over,  showed  themselves  faithful  servants  of  the  king 
whom  they  had  chosen.  Hugh  made  use  of  Gerbert’s 
talents  as  a  writer  and  entrusted  to  him  the  drawing-up 
of  several  important  letters.  Among  those  which  are 
extant  is  one  in  which  the  king  asks  of  the  two  emperors 
of  Constantinople  the  hand  of  a  Byzantine  princess  for 
his  son  Robert.  Another  letter  promises  aid  to  Borel, 
duke  of  the  Spanish  March,  against  the  threatening 
Mussulmans,  who,  two  years  before,  had  taken  the  city 

388 


Life  of  Gerbert 

of  Barcelona  from  him.  Gerbert,  who  had  lived  at  the 
court  of  Borel  and  owed  to  him  his  scientific  education, 
was  probably  not  a  stranger  to  the  decision  of  the  king 
to  aid  the  duke.  The  plan  could  not  be  realized,  but  it 
gave  to  Hugh,  who  alleged  that  it  would  endanger  his 
person,  an  opportunity  to  associate  his  son  Robert  in  the 
kingship,  and  thus  to  assure  the  succession  in  his  family. 
The  young  prince  and  pupil  of  Gerbert  was  crowned  at 
Orleans,  December  25,  987,  and  consecrated  at  Reims, 
January  1,  988. 

Under  these  circumstances,  Duke  Charles  resolved  to 
make  good  his  right  or  his  claim  to  the  crown  (988).  He 
was  able  to  raise  a  body  of  troops  and  march  upon  Laon, 
the  capital  of  the  old  Carolingian  kings.  The  lord  of  this 
city  was  its  bishop— a  man  named  Adalbero  (not  to  be 
confused  with  the  archbishop  of  Reims),  whose  surname 
was  Ascelin  or  Azolin ;  Queen  Emma,  widow  of  Lothair, 
also  resided  at  Laon.  The  bishop  and  the  queen  were  on 
bad  terms  with  the  duke,  who  had  made  accusations 
touching  their  morality.  Charles,  by  a  ruse,  was  able 
to  capture  the  city.  He  imprisoned  Emma  and  Ascelin, 
gathered  a  great  supply  of  provisions,  completed  the 
fortifications  of  the  place,  and  thus  made  his  position 
very  strong.  The  two  kings,  Hugh  and  Robert,  after 
some  hesitation,  decided  to  besiege  the  place.  Arch¬ 
bishop  Adalbero,  as  lord  of  Reims,  had  to  furnish  his 
contingent  and  take  part  in  the  expedition.  The  city  was 
besieged  twice  in  the  year  988,  both  times  unsuccessfully. 
Gerbert  took  part  in  the  first  siege.  His  letters  are  among 
the  documents  which  enable  us  to  follow  some  of  the 
incidents  of  this  useless  campaign. 

389 


Medieval  Civilization 

The  ensuing  winter,  the  archbishop  fell  sick,  and  died 
at  Reims.  King  Hugh  was  present  at  the  funeral  and 
busied  himself  with  the  choice  of  a  successor.  In  theory, 
the  right  of  election  belonged  to  the  clergy  and  people 
of  the  diocese  and  the  bishops  of  the  province ;  but,  in 
fact,  the  king’s  will  was  all-powerful.  The  position  to 
be  filled  was  one  of  the  most  important  in  the  Church, 
and  the  post  of  grand  chancellor  of  the  kingdom  which 
went  with  it  gave  its  holder  much  political  importance. 

Gerbert  was  torn  by  conflicting  emotions — sorrow  at 
the  loss  of  his  master  and  friend,  and  ambition  which 
was  awakened  by  the  prospect  of  the  magnificent  future 
that  seemed  to  open  before  him.  Adalbero  had  desig¬ 
nated  Gerbert,  the  latter  said,  for  the  archbishopric,  and 
he  might  legitimately  hope  that  the  king,  who  had  gained 
the  throne  through  him,  would  honor  this  wish.  Hugh 
was,  however,  maladroit  and  ungrateful.  Notwithstand¬ 
ing  the  very  sensible  advice  given  by  a  nephew  of  the 
dead  archbishop  and  inspired  by  Gerbert,  he  thought  it 
would  be  good  politics  to  give  the  vacant  archbishopric  to 
young  Arnulf,  an  illegitimate  son  of  Lothair.  He  hoped, 
in  this  way,  to  divide  the  Carolingian  family  and  gain  the 
help  of  Arnulf  against  his  uncle  Charles,  the  pretender. 
He  was  soon  undeceived.  Gerbert,  whatever  his  disap¬ 
pointment  may  have  been,  remained  master  of  himself. 
He  did  not  show  a  trace  of  ill-will  toward  his  rival,  and 
remained  attached  to  him  as  he  had  been  to  his  prede¬ 
cessor.  He  framed  the  certificate  of  election  and  drew 
up  several  letters  on  behalf  of  his  new  master.  On  the 
other  hand,  having  lost  hope  of  gaining  preferment  at 
Reims,  he  wrote  to  his  friends  at  the  imperial  court,  re- 


390 


Life  of  Gerbert 

calling-  his  loyal  services  to  the  family  of  the  Ottos,  and 
begged  for  a  reward,  whatever  it  might  be.  He  had  no 
greater  success  with  Theophano  than  he  had  had  with 
Hugh.  He  was  forced  to  be  content  with  the  nominal 
title  of  abbot  of  Bobbio  and  with  the  actual  position  of 
scholasticus  at  Reims.  The  new  archbishop,  Arnulf, 
either  by  premeditation  or  impulse,  soon  betrayed,  for 
the  sake  of  his  uncle,  the  pretender,  the  kings  to  whom 
he  had  sworn  fidelity.  He  was  careful  only  to  preserve 
appearances  and  to  seem  to  be  the  victim  of  the  crime  for 
which  he  was  really  responsible.  One  night,  in  the  sum¬ 
mer  of  989,  Charles  appeared  with  his  troops  under  the 
walls  of  Reims.  A  priest  named  Adelger,  at  the  instiga¬ 
tion  of  Arnulf,  took  from  under  the  latter’s  pillow  the 
keys  of  the  city  and  opened  the  gates  to  the  duke.  The 
city  was  pillaged  and  the  archbishop  was  seized  and  car¬ 
ried  prisoner  to  Laon.  Gerbert,  who  had  been  denounced 
to  Charles  as  the  author  of  the  revolution  which  placed 
the  Capetians  upon  the  throne,  feared  for  his  life.  He 
thought  of  flight,  but  in  vain.  At  this  point,  a  curious 
incident  occurs,  and  Gerbert,  usually  so  firm  in  spirit 
and  so  loyal,  exhibits  surprising  weakness.  Arnulf  had 
raised  the  mask  and  had  openly  declared  himself  a  parti¬ 
san  of  Charles,  and  Gerbert  followed  him  in  his  defec¬ 
tion.  He  continued  to  serve  as  his  secretary,  and,  in  the 
letters  written  at  his  command,  manifests  a  strong  oppo¬ 
sition  to  the  cause  of  the  princes  who  had  made  Arnulf 
archbishop  and  whom  he  himself  had  made  kings. 
Gerbert  has  not  left  it  for  another  to  denounce  this 
aberration ;  a  short  time  afterward,  conscious  of  his  error, 
he  frankly  accused  himself  of  having  been  leader  in  the 


391 


Medieval  Civilization 

most  criminal  enterprises  and  of  having  played  the  role 
of  an  organ  of  the  devil,  in  championing  error  against 
the  truth.  Whatever  may  be  the  true  explanation,  he 
figured  for  a  short  time  among  the  members,  if  not 
among  the  chiefs,  of  the  rebellious  party. 

It  was  only  for  a  short  time.  Even  during  his  defec¬ 
tion,  he  was  tormented  by  scruples.  Friends  strove  to 
reconcile  him  with  his  own  conscience.  Some  leagues 
from  Reims,  there  was  a  castle,  called  Roucy,  in  which 
two  near  relatives  of  the  last  Carolingians  lived.  These 
were  Gislebert,  count  of  Roucy,  and  Bruno,  his  brother, 
bishop  of  Langres,  who  were  sons  of  a  sister  of  Lothair 
and  Charles,  and  therefore  cousins  of  Archbishop  Arnulf. 
Bishop  Bruno  found  himself  in  a  very  awkward  situation 
as  the  result  of  the  treason  of  Arnulf,  for  he  had  been 
rash  enough,  some  months  before,  to  guarantee  the  fidel¬ 
ity  of  his  cousin  to  the  kings,  Hugh  and  Robert.  He  had 
an  interview  with  Gerbert  at  the  castle  of  Roucy,  and 
pointed  out  to  him  the  peril  of  the  course  he  was  entering 
upon,  and  persuaded  him  to  return  to  the  cause  of  the 
kings.  Gerbert,  relieved  of  a  heavy  weight,  left  Reims 
and  wrote  to  Archbishop  Arnulf  definitely  breaking  with 
him,  in  a  letter  which  was  very  honest  and  very  clever, 
for  he  could  almost  always  combine  these  two  qualities. 
He  went  to  the  court  of  the  kings,  who  were  then  living 
at  Senlis,  and  in  the  letters  to  his  friends,  announcing  his 
return  to  the  good  cause,  his  unmixed  joy  is  very  evi¬ 
dent.  Hugh  again  placed  entire  confidence  in  him.  He 
gave  him  the  task  of  drawing  up,  in  the  name  of  a  pro¬ 
vincial  council,  assembled  by  royal  command  at  Senlis, 
a  sentence  of  anathema  against  the  accomplices  of  Arnulf 


392 


Life  of  Gerbert 

and  Charles,  as  well  as  a  letter  addressed  to  Pope 
John  XV,  imploring  intervention  against  the  faithless 
prelate  (summer  of  990).  An  archbishop’s  treason  had 
caused  Hugh  Capet  to  lose  the  city  of  Reims ;  the  treason 
of  a  bishop  placed  in  his  hands,  not  only  the  archbishop¬ 
ric  and  the  city,  but  also  the  chief  of  the  whole  rebellion, 
the  pretender  Charles.  This  new  traitor  was  Adalbero 
or  Ascelin,  the  bishop  of  Laon.  After  a  pretended  recon¬ 
ciliation  with  Duke  Charles,  and  after  the  most  solemn 
oaths,  he  betrayed  him  to  the  royal  troops  and  opened 
to  them  the  gates  of  Laon.  This  perfidy  took  place  during 
the  night  of  Palm  Sunday  (991).  Arnulf  was  captured 
with  his  uncle.  Duke  Charles,  with  his  wife  and  chil¬ 
dren,  and  the  archbishop  were  imprisoned  in  Orleans. 
The  civil  war  was  thus  ended  at  a  stroke.  But  it  may  be 
truthfully  said  that  Hugh  Capet  owed  his  success  to  his 
good  fortune  rather  than  to  his  prudence  or  his  clever¬ 
ness. 

In  June,  a  national  council  was  assembled  at  Verzy  to 
try  the  archbishop.  Gerbert  has  left  a  detailed  account, 
which  he  wrote  four  years  later,  probably  composed 
from  stenographic  notes  which  he  took  during  the  sit¬ 
tings,  for  he  had  learned  the  system  of  shorthand  which 
was  used  by  the  Italian  notaries.  The  guilt  of  Arnulf 
was  unquestioned;  he  himself  admitted  it.  The  only  dis¬ 
pute  was  about  a  legal  question :  could  a  national  council 
try  a  prelate  without  the  express  authorization  of  the 
pope  ?  The  bishops  said  that  it  could ;  but  two  abbots 
declared  that  it  could  not.  They  recognized  that  it 
was  to  the  interest  of  the  regular  clergy  to  defend  the 
rights  of  the  Holy  See,  which  had  often  granted  the 


393 


Medieval  Civilization 

monasteries  exemption  from  the  episcopal  authority. 
The  bishops  cited  the  ancient  discipline  of  the  Church, 
the  condition  of  anarchy  and  barbarism  info  which  Rome 
had  fallen,  and  the  ignorance  of  the  popes  of  the  time; 
the  defenders  of  the  papacy  found  arguments  for 
their  cause  in  an  apocryphal  collection,  composed  in 
the  middle  of  the  preceding  century  and  already  widely 
known  throughout  Christendom — the  False  Decretals. 
The  bishops  who  were  strong  in  number  and  had  the 
kings  on  their  side,  insisted  on  the  punishment  of  the 
traitor,  carried  the  day  and  sentenced  Arnulf  to  be 
degraded  from  his  office.  They  made  him  abdicate  in 
writing,  tore  from  his  person  the  insignia  of  his  rank, 
and  sent  him  to  prison.  Gerbert  was  elected  archbishop 
in  his  place.  This  had  been  the  supreme  goal  of  his  am¬ 
bition  for  many  years.  It  was  also  the  beginning  of  the 
greatest  tribulations  of  his  life.  His  opponents  made 
haste  to  denounce  to  the  pope  the  injury  which  had 
been  done  to  the  papacy  by  the  council  of  Verzy,  in  judg¬ 
ing  and  condemning  an  archbishop  without  papal  concur¬ 
rence— an  injury  which  had  been  aggravated  by  the  very 
disrespectful  language  in  which  one  of  the  bishops  had 
spoken  of  the  court  of  Rome.  The  Holy  See  at  once 
opened  a  campaign  of  canonical  litigation  against  the 
new  archbishop,  which  lasted  six  years  without  any  defi¬ 
nite  result.  Gerbert,  who  was  full  of  zeal  for  serious 
studies,  had  no  taste  for  chicanery.  He  was  disheartened 
at  the  time  and  energy  he  lost  in  defending  a  position 
which  he  believed  he  had  obtained  legitimately.  “I 
would  much  rather,”  he  wrote,  “fight  against  armed  men 
than  dispute  over  legal  questions.”  And  yet  he  displays 


394 


Life  of  Gerbert 

in  this  struggle  all  his  clearness  of  thought,  his  correct¬ 
ness  of  reasoning,  and  his  strength  of  character.  In  the 
administration  of  his  diocese  during  this  period  of  strife, 
he  showed  himself  to  be  a  prelate  fully  conscious  of  his 
spiritual  duties,  careful  to  maintain  discipline,  and  to 
protect  impartially  all  the  faithful  of  every  rank  who 
were  subjected  to  his  metropolitan  authority  and  en¬ 
trusted  to  his  pastoral  care. 

An  Italian  monk,  Leo,  abbot  of  St.  Boniface  of  Rome, 
was  appointed  papal  legate  to  examine  the  charges 
against  Arnulf.  In  992,  he  went,  not  to  France,  but  to 
Aix-la-Chapelle,  in  Lorraine,  and  there  summoned  a 
council  of  bishops  from  Lorraine  and  Germany.  It  was 
only  there,  he  declares,  that  he  learned  of  the  deposition 
of  Arnulf.  He  returned  to  the  pope  and  reported  the 
condition  of  affairs.  The  sovereign  pontiff  summoned 
to  his  court  at  Rome  the  kings,  Hugh  and  Robert,  and 
the  French  bishops.  This  summons  naturally  had  no 
effect.  A  second  council  was  held  in  the  territory  of 
Otto  III,  at  Ingelheim,  near  Mayence  (994)  ;  the  legate 
evidently  did  not  dare  to  come  into  France  itself  and 
attack  a  sentence  which  had  been  pronounced  with  the 
assent  of  the  king  of  France.  The  German  bishops  ren¬ 
dered  a  formal  decision  against  the  council  of  Verzy,  and 
requested  the  pope  to  quash  the  condemnation  of  Arnulf. 

Emboldened  by  this  first  success,  John  XV  planned  a 
decisive  stroke.  He  excommunicated  Gerbert  and  the 
French  bishops  who  had  deposed  Arnulf.  His  measures 
met  with  a  vigorous  resistance.  Gerbert  protested 
against  the  sentence  of  the  pope,  and  induced  his  col¬ 
leagues  to  disregard  it.  A  national  council  was  assembled 

395 


Medieval  Civilization 

at  Chelles  and  directed  by  him,  although  presided  over 
by  the  young  king  Robert,  and  it  was  formally  decreed 
that  the  pope  was  not  entitled  to  obedience  when  he  gave 
unjust  orders,  and  that  the  condemnation  of  Arnulf  had 
been  regularly  pronounced  and  would  be  maintained. 

John  XV  recognized  that  his  authority  would  be 
powerless  against  prelates  who  were  directed  and  sus¬ 
tained  by  their  king.  He  thereupon  adopted  a  new  ex¬ 
pedient,  which  was  to  assemble  upon  the  border  between 
the  kingdoms  of  Hugh  and  Otto  III  a  council  composed 
of  the  bishops  of  both  countries.  He  undoubtedly  hoped 
to  get,  through  the  support  of  the  prelates  of  Lorraine 
and  of  Germany,  a  majority  against  Gerbert,  and  he  ex¬ 
pected  that  the  French  prelates  would  not  dare  to  refuse 
obedience  to  the  decision  of  a  council  in  which  they  them¬ 
selves  had  taken  part.  Leo,  the  papal  legate,  returned 
and  summoned  a  council  to  meet  at  Mouzon,  which  was 
within  the  diocese  of  Reims  and  in  the  kingdom  of  Lor¬ 
raine,  upon  the  French  frontier.  King  Hugh,  however, 
checkmated  the  plan  of  the  pope  by  forbidding  his  bishops 
to  obey  the  summons  of  the  legate.  Gerbert  was  the  only 
French  prelate  at  the  council,  where  he  pleaded  his  cause. 
No  decision  was  reached,  and  all  that  was  done  was  to 
order  a  fresh  council  to  assemble  at  Reims,  July  I,  995. 
They  requested  Gerbert,  during  the  period  before  a  final 
decision  should  be  rendered,  to  regard  himself  as  sus¬ 
pended  from  his  ecclesiastical  functions.  He  only  con¬ 
sented,  through  a  spirit  of  conciliation,  to  abstain  from 
celebrating  the  mass.  Whether  the  council  sat  at  Reims 
or  Senlis  or  elsewhere,  and  whether  it  decided  anything,  is 
unknown.  All  that  is  certain  is  that  the  matter  was  still 

396 


Life  of  Gerbert 

in  suspense  in  996.  In  that  year,  Gerbert,  taking  advan¬ 
tage  of  Otto  Ill’s  journey  to  Italy  to  receive  the  imperial 
crown,  went  with  the  monarch  to  explain  his  cause  to  the 
pope.  However,  while  they  were  journeying  to  Italy, 
John  XV  died  and  was  succeeded  by  Gregory  V,  a  relative 
of  Otto  III.  No  one  dared  to  speak  to  the  new  pope 
against  a  man  who  was  a  favorite  of  the  emperor,  a  mem¬ 
ber  of  his  suite  and  his  secretary ;  in  the  absence  of  an 
accuser,  the  case  remained  undecided.  It  was  referred 
to  a  new  council,  which  was  to  meet,  probably  at  Rome, 
in  997.  Meanwhile  Hugh  Capet  died,  and  thus  Gerbert 
lost  his  best  defender.  The  young  king,  Robert  of 
France,  was,  to  be  sure,  Gerbert’s  pupil,  but  he  was  also 
the  friend  of  Abbo,  the  abbot  of  St.  Benedict-upon-the- 
Loire,  who  had  been  the  strenuous  defender  of  Arnulf 
and  the  papacy  at  the  council  of  Verzy.  Furthermore, 
Robert  needed  the  pope’s  friendship,  for  he  wished  to 
marry  one  of  his  relatives,  the  countess  Bertha,  and  he 
naturally  feared  that  the  marriage  would  be  attacked  at 
Rome — as  it  actually  was,  a  little  later.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  Gerbert  had  already  been  consulted  concerning  the 
projected  marriage  and  had  formally  opposed  it,  in  the 
name  of  the  laws  of  the  Church.  He  now  recognized 
that  he  could  no  longer  expect  the  support  of  the  French 
court.  He  appeared  in  France,  probably  for  the  last  time, 
at  a  council  held  in  St.  Denis  in  March,  997;  then,  feel¬ 
ing  that  he  was  encompassed  by  enemies  in  the  very 
heart  of  his  metropolitan  city  of  Reims,  he  sought  refuge 
in  Germany,  at  the  court  of  Otto  III. 

A  year  before,  this  prince  had  exchanged  his  title  of 
king  for  that  of  emperor.  He  was  seventeen  years  old, 


39  7 


Medieval  Civilization 

and  exhibited  great  zeal  for  study.  He  gladly  welcomed 
for  the  second  time  such  a  celebrated  scholar,  and  made 
haste  to  attach  him  to  himself  and  to  give  him  the  means 
to  lead  a  tranquil  and  honorable  existence  at  the  court. 
At  the  end  of  997,  when  the  difficulties  stirred  up  by  the 
famous  Crescentius  called  the  emperor  to  Rome,  he  again 
took  Gerbert  with  him  to  Italy.  When  they  had  passed 
the  Alps,  they  learned  that  King  Robert  had  yielded  to 
the  demands  of  the  pope — of  which  the  abbot  Abbo  had 
made  himself  the  official  interpreter — and  had  liberated 
Arnulf  from  prison.  This  event  clearly  indicated  that  he 
intended  to  restore  to  Arnulf  his  archbishopric ;  it  was  a 
warning  to  Gerbert  to  seek  his  fortunes  elsewhere.  The 
emperor  did  not  permit  the  search  to  last  very  long.  He 
gave  him  the  archbishopric  of  Ravenna,  one  of  the  first 
ecclesiastical  dignities  in  Italy.  He  thus  recompensed 
Gerbert  in  a  princely  fashion  for  the  services  which  the 
latter  had  rendered  gratuitously  in  the  days  of  the  regency 
of  Theophano.  The  pope  promptly  ratified  a  choice  which 
so  peculiarly  facilitated  the  solution  of  the  quarrel  over 
the  see  of  Reims,  and  Gerbert  was  officially  installed  in 
his  new  archbishopric  (April,  998). 

Nevertheless,  it  was  not  yet  considered  safe  to  restore 
Arnulf  completely  to  his  see,  for  that  would  have  involved 
the  condemnation  of  Gerbert  and  of  the  council  of  Verzy, 
and  this  was  neither  desirable  nor  feasible.  Hence,  by 
a  new  compromise,  the  pope  authorized  Arnulf  to  resume 
the  exercise  of  his  archiepiscopal  functions  until  the  case 
was  settled.  Gerbert  was  archbishop  of  Ravenna  about 
a  year.  Little  is  known  of  his  life  or  of  his  acts  during 
this  period.  He  reestablished  discipline  in  the  monastery 

398 


Life  of  Gerbert 

of  Bobbio,  of  which  he  was  still  abbot,  and,  by  an  im¬ 
perial  diploma,  secured  the  official  restitution  of  the 
monastic  property  which  had  been  usurped  during  his 
absence.  He  was  always  much  concerned  about  regularity 
and  discipline,  and  consequently  went  further  than  this 
measure,  which  interested  him  particularly ;  he  used  his 
influence  to  set  limits  to  the  waste  of  the  goods  of  the 
Church.  He  recalled  the  extent  to  which  he  had  been 
embarrassed,  fifteen  years  before,  through  the  long  leases 
by  which  the  abbot,  his  predecessor,  had  alienated  the 
resources  of  the  monastery  for  practically  nothing.  He 
secured  a  decree  from  an  Italian  council  and  from  the 
emperor  that,  in  the  future,  leases  made  by  a  bishop  or 
abbot  of  the  property  of  his  bishopric  or  abbey,  should  be 
valid  only  during  the  lifetime  of  the  said  bishop  or  abbot. 
It  is  worthy  of  note  that  he  also  appended  his  signa¬ 
ture,  after  that  of  Pope  Gregory  V,  to  a  sentence  of  ex- 
communication  launched  against  King  Robert,  his  former 
pupil,  for  violating  the  canons  by  marrying  a  relative, 
the  countess  Bertha.  The  following  year,  Gregory  V 
died  (February,  999),  and  Otto  III,  who  disposed  of  the 
pontifical  throne,  gave  it  to  Gerbert.  It  is  quite  certain 
that  this  piece  of  good  fortune  was  unexpected.  Less 
than  four  years  before,  in  an  apologetic  letter  to  the 
bishop  of  Strasburg,  he  expressed  astonishment  at  having 
been  raised  to  the  archiepiscopal  see  of  Reims ;  such  an 
exalted  position  seemed  in  excess  of  his  deserts.  “If  it 
is  asked  how  this  happened,”  he  said,  “I  declare  that  I 
do  not  know ;  I  do  not  know  how  a  poor  man,  an  exile, 
without  birth  or  fortune,  was  able  to  get  the  preference 
over  so  many  men  possessed  of  riches  and  high  birth.” 


399 


Medieval  Civilization 

No  one  could  have  foreseen  at  that  time  that  he  was  very 
soon  to  become  the  first  bishop  of  the  universe  and  that 
the  world  would  see,  in  his  person,  science  and  virtue 
seated  upon  the  throne  of  St.  Peter,  where,  he  had  so 
loudly  complained,  one  could  see  only  ignorance  and  cor¬ 
ruption.  He  took  the  name  of  Sylvester,  and  was  con¬ 
secrated  at  Rome,  probably  in  the  presence  of  Otto  III, 
on  Palm  Sunday,  999.  He  was  pope  until  May,  1003. 
During  these  four  years,  the  history  of  his  life  is  bound 
up  with  the  history  of  the  Church,  and  only  a  few  of  his 
acts  need  be  spoken  of  in  this  place. 

Gregory  V  having  failed  to  give  a  final  decision  for  or 
against  Arnulf,  Sylvester  II  had  to  decide  the  case.  His 
generosity  forbade  him  to  overwhelm  his  rival ;  his  con¬ 
science  forbade  him  to  absolve  a  criminal  who  had  been 
justly  condemned.  With  his  usual  cleverness  and  hon¬ 
esty,  he  found  a  way  to  reconcile  his  generosity  and  his 
conscience,  and,  at  the  same  time,  finally  to  restore  peace 
to  the  church  of  Reims.  In  a  haughty  letter  to  Arnulf, 
he  declared  that  this  prelate  had  been  condemned  “for 
certain  misdeeds,”  quibusdam  excessibus,  but  that  the 
Holy  See  has,  among  other  prerogatives,  the  right  of 
sovereign  mercy,  which  permits  it  “to  lift  up  those  who 
have  fallen,”  lapsos  erigere.  By  virtue  of  this  right  and 
showing  mercy,  he  judged  it  good  to  come  to  the  aid  of 
the  dispossessed  archbishop ;  he  reestablished  him  in  his 
first  dignity  and  permitted  him  to  resume,  with  the  in¬ 
signia  of  his  office,  the  exercise  of  his  diocesan  and 
metropolitan  authority,  and  forbade  anyone  ever  to 
reproach  him  with  his  condemnation,  “whatever  the 
reproaches  which  he  might  feel  in  his  conscience,”  etiamsi 
conscientiae  reatus  accurrat.  In  a  word,  the  pope  re- 


400 


Life  of  Gerbert 

stored  him  everything  save  his  honor ;  but  the  sentence 
pronounced  by  the  fathers  of  Verzy  remained  intact. 
If  Arnulf  had  any  sense  of  honor  (which  is  doubtful), 
he  must  have  felt  more  humiliated  to  recover  his  arch¬ 
bishopric  on  these  conditions  than  to  have  lost  it.  Never¬ 
theless,  he  thought  it  wise  to  accept  it ;  and  he  kept  it 
twenty-two  years,  dying  archbishop  of  Reims,  eighteen 
years  after  the  death  of  Sylvester  II.  Until  quite  recently 
the  details  of  this  whole  matter  were  known  only  through 
the  unsatisfactory  reports  of  non-contemporary  chron¬ 
iclers.  It  was  generally  believed,  from  the  evidence”  of 
these  chroniclers,  that  Gregory  V  had  annulled  the  acts 
of  the  council  of  Verzy,  that  he  had  deprived  Gerbert  of 
the  archbishopric  of  Reims  to  give  it  to  Arnulf,  and  that 
Gerbert  had  no  office  at  the  moment  when  Otto  III  gave 
him  the  archbishopric  of  Ravenna.  It  is  now  known  that 
all  this  is  false.  But  the  impression  given  by  the  old  ideas 
still  persists,  and,  even  now,  there  are  Catholic  writers 
who  think  that  they  can  give  the  assembly  of  Verzy  no 
other  name  than  that  of  false  council,  and  that  they  can 
call  Gerbert  archbishop  of  Reims  only  by  prefacing  the 
title  with  the  word  “intruding.”  If  by  these  words  the 
authors  who  employed  them  wished  merely  to  express 
their  personal  opinion,  well  and  good,  but  if  they  desired 
to  show  their  submission  to  the  decrees  of  the  Holy  See, 
they  deceived  themselves.  The  Holy  See  has  never  pro¬ 
nounced  upon  either  the  validity  of  the  acts  of  the  coun¬ 
cil  of  Verzy  or  the  legitimacy  of  the  election  of  Gerbert. 
These  questions  are  still  to-day  among  those  to  which  the 
second  of  the  three  principles  attributed  to  St.  Augustine 
applies  :  In  dubiis  libertas. 

The  irritation  which  Gerbert  felt  when  appointed  abbot 


401 


Medieval  Civilization 

of  Bobbio  at  the  irregular  administration  of  his  predeces¬ 
sor,  Petroald  the  monk,  has  already  been  spoken  of. 
When  he  became  pope,  he  showed  that  he  knew  how  to 
forget.  He  gave,  or  caused  Otto  III  to  give,  to  Petroald 
the  abbey  of  Bobbio,  and  an  imperial  diploma  defined  and 
confirmed  the  rights  of  the  new  abbot. 

The  odious  treason  of  Adalbero  or  Ascelin,  bishop  of 
Laon,  who  had  delivered  Charles  of  Lorraine  into  the 
hands  of  Hugh  Capet,  at  the  very  time  when  the  bishop 
enjoyed  the  complete  confidence  of  Charles,  was  not  for¬ 
gotten.  This  act  of  perfidy  had  been  advantageous  to 
Gerbert,  since  it  had  resulted  in  the  condemnation  and 
deposition  of  Arnulf ;  but  the  advantage  which  he  had 
derived  from  it  did  not  prevent  him  from  feeling  the  in¬ 
famy  of  the  whole  transaction.  During  his  pontificate,  a 
complaint  made  by  King  Robert  against  the  bishop  of 
Laon  furnished  him  an  opportunity  to  give  free  course 
to  his  indignation  against  the  traitor.  He  summoned 
Ascelin  to  Rome,  and  himself  drew  up  the  letter  of  cita¬ 
tion.  This  letter  has  a  most  extraordinary  tone  for  an 
official  document,  which  can  be  explained  only  by  the 
contempt  that  the  former  scholasticus  of  Reims  must 
have  nourished  during  many  years  for  the  miserable 
Ascelin.  In  this  letter,  it  is  stated  that  the  complaint  of 
King  Robert  has  reached  the  hands  of  the  pope  and  of  the 
emperor,  apostolicis  et  imperialibus  oblata  est  manibus. 
It  is  not  clear  that  it  was  addressed  to  the  emperor,  from 
whom  the  king  of  France  had  nothing  to  ask.  The  ex¬ 
planation  of  these  words  is  to  be  found  in  certain  chimer¬ 
ical  projects  which  had  been  formed  by  a  too-youthful 
emperor  and  a  too-learned  pope.  Impressed  by  the 


402 


Life  of  Gerbert 

memories  of  antiquity,  Otto  III  and  Sylvester  II  had 
dreamed  of  restoring  the  ancient  Roman  Empire,  not 
that  of  the  pagan  Caesars,  but  the  empire  of  Constantine 
the  Great.  They  wished  to  make  the  Christian  world  in¬ 
to  a  single  monarchy,  which  the  emperor  and  the  pope, 
equal  in  the  territorial  extent  of  their  power,  should  gov¬ 
ern  in  common  accord.  The  documents  drawn  up  at  this 
time  frequently  mention  the  common  action  of  Otto  III 
and  Sylvester  II.  This  explains  why  the  pope  had 
thought  it  well  to  submit  to  Otto  III  the  complaint  of 
Robert,  as  if  the  king  had  been  the  subject  of  the  em¬ 
peror.  It  is  not  the  only  case  in  which  the  pope  strove  to 
favor  the  encroachments  of  the  empire  upon  the  rights  of 
the  king  of  France.  At  another  time,  he  caused  two 
French  subjects,  Count  Ermengard  of  Barcelona,  son  of 
his  old  protector,  Borel,  and  Bishop  Arnulf  of  Vich,  the 
successor  of  his  old  master,  Atto,  to  discuss  their  respec¬ 
tive  rights  before  Otto  III  and  to  humble  themselves  be¬ 
fore  the  imperial  majesty.  It  is  commonly  said  that  Syl¬ 
vester  was  the  first  French  pope;  it  is  true  that  he  was 
the  first  pope  born  in  France,  but  he  was  very  far  from 
exhibiting  French  sentiments  in  his  government.  He  had 
become  the  subject  of  Otto  II  when  he  accepted  Bobbio 
and  of  Otto  III  when  he  accepted  Ravenna ;  and,  if  Hugh 
Capet  attached  him  momentarily  to  himself  when  he  gave 
him  Reims,  Robert  freed  him  when  he  took  it  from  him 
unjustly;  finally,  the  sole  favor  of  the  emperor  had  made 
him  sovereign  pontiff.  Seated  upon  the  throne  of  St. 
Peter,  he  showed  himself  as  devoted  to  the  imperial 
house  as  if  he  had  been  born  in  Germany. 

Death  soon  put  an  end  to  the  dreams  of  the  prince  and 


403 


Medieval  Civilization 

of  the  pontiff.  Otto  III  was  carried  off  by  a  sudden  ill¬ 
ness,  January  23,  1002,  before  he  was  quite  twenty-two 
years  old.  Sylvester  II  died  at  Rome  sixteen  months 
later,  May  12,  1003,  and  was  buried  in  St.  John  Lateran. 

Varying  judgments  have  been  passed  upon  Gerbert. 
In  medieval  legends  he  appears  as  an  adept  in  Mussulman 
necromancy,  a  sorcerer,  a  limb  of  the  devil.  Some  modern 
writers  have  spoken  of  him  as  a  man  without  a  con¬ 
science,  a  perverse,  perfidious  creature,  a  traitor  and  an 
enchanter,  as  one  possessed  of  a  demon,  as  barely  a 
Christian.  His  learning,  acquired  with  so  much  labor, 
has  been  viewed  by  ignorant  and  superstitious  men  as 
the  fruit  of  intercourse  with  the  powers  of  darkness.  The 
foregoing  sketch  shows  that  he  was  not  traitorous  or 
perfidious.  It  is  true  that  on  one  occasion  his  attachment 
to  his  master,  Archbishop  Arnulf,  led  him  to  join  for  a 
brief  space  the  party  in  rebellion  against  Hugh.  But  the 
eagerness  and  quickness  with  which  he  returned  to  the 
cause  of  Hugh  should  be  considered  as  at  least  a  pallia¬ 
tion.  The  pangs  his  conscience  gave  him,  while  he  was 
in  rebellion,  rebut  the  charge  of  lack  of  conscience.  He 
was  ambitious.  But  he  could  not  well  avoid  knowing  his 
own  value,  and  he  never  showed  an  unworthy  haste  in 
seeking  his  reward.  The  charges  of  coldheartedness  and 
friendlessness  are  false.  He  never  forgot  his  old  teachers 
at  Aurillac,  Abbot  Geraud  and  the  monk  Raymond,  and 
kept  up  a  steady  correspondence  in  which  he  revealed  to 
them  the  sorrows  of  his  spirit.  When  abbot  of  Bobbio 
he  shared  with  his  poor  relatives  a  fortune  which  he  had 
inherited.  When  scholasticus  at  Reims  he  intervened  be¬ 
tween  a  too  harsh  abbot  and  an  erring  monk.  When 


404 


Life  of  Gerbert 

archbishop  of  Reims  he  did  not  hesitate  to  correct  wrongs 
committed  by  his  suffragans  upon  some  poor  clerks,  al¬ 
though  his  hold  upon  his  archbishopric  was  so  slight  that 
every  friend  counted.  When  pope  he  was  famous  for  the 
liberality  with  which  he  distributed  alms.  He  was  always 
generous  with  the  money  he  had  amassed  by  his  labors,  and 
spent  it,  without  stint,  to  purchase  copies  of  the  writings 
of  the  ancient  authors,  allowing  the  copyists  to  fix  their 
own  price.  In  short,  he  was  always  good  and  generous, 
loyal  and  upright.  An  investigation  of  all  the  charges 
which  have  been  brought  against  him  will  show  that 
there  was  no  act  done  by  his  authority  or  under  his  in¬ 
fluence  which  was  not  dictated  solely  by  duty,  by  zeal  for 
justice,  or  by  care  for  the  public  good.  No  higher  praise 
can  be  given  to  a  prelate,  a  pontiff,  and  the  favorite  of 
an  emperor. 


405 


Saint  Bernard 


Adapted  from  A.  Luchaire,  in  Reviie  Historiqiie,  Vol.  LXXI, 
1899,  pp.  225-242.  Reprinted  in  Lavisse:  Histoire  de 
France ,  Vol.  II,  Part  n,  pp.  266-282. 

ST.  BERNARD,  who  governed  Christianity  in  the 
West  from  1125  to  1153  by  the  mere  prestige  of  his 
eloquence  and  holiness,  is  the  synthesis  of  his  century. 
He  personifies  the  whole  political  and  religious  system  of 
an  epoch  in  the  Middle  Ages  which  was  dominated  by 
the  moral  power  of  the  Church.  Recounting  his  life 
would  be  equivalent  to  writing  the  history  of  the  monas¬ 
tic  orders,  of  the  reform  movement,  of  the  orthodox 
theology,  of  the  heretical  doctrines,  of  the  second  cru¬ 
sade,  and  of  the  destinies  of  France,  Germany,  and  Italy 
during  a  period  of  almost  forty  years.  It  is  not  at  all 
astonishing  that  his  biographers  have  recoiled  before 
such  an  enormous  undertaking. 

To  the  difficulty  of  the  task  is  to  be  added  the  difficulty 
of  comprehending  and  defining  the  man.  It  .has  been 
truthfully  said  that,  of  all  his  miracles,  the  most  surpris¬ 
ing  was  his  personality  itself,  the  inconceivable  union  of 
two  contradictory  temperaments :  on  one  side,  the  monk, 
according  to  the  ideal  of  the  age,  contemplative,  mystical, 
ascetic,  who  kept  his  body  under  almost  to  its  destruc¬ 
tion,  and  seemed  to  have  lost  the  sense  o»f  things  mate- 

406 


Saint  Bernard 

rial,  skirting  Lake  Geneva  a  whole  day  without  seeing  it, 
and  drinking  oil  for  water ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  man 
of  action,  the  indefatigable  preacher,  the  officious  coun¬ 
selor  of  the  high  barons,  kings,  and  popes,  the  real  chief 
of  the  Western  Church,  the  politician  who  was  extraor¬ 
dinarily  busy  and  active.  There  is  the  same  opposition 
between  the  physical  and  the  moral ;  his  body  had  been 
beautiful  in  his  youth,  but  was  very  early  debilitated, 
exhausted  by  fastings  and  macerations,  and  so  worn  out 
that  it  was  scarcely  able  to  take  nourishment ;  it  burned 
with  fever  and  was  afflicted  with  premature  infirmities ; 
beneath  this  frail  envelope  lay  an  astonishingly  vigorous 
power  of  soul  and  mind,  an  incredible  strength  for  work, 
an  energy  which  overcame  fatigue.  And,  in  this  same 
soul,  singular  contradictions :  sweetness,  unction,  kind¬ 
ness,  even  toward  animals,  even  toward  Jews  (which  is 
characteristic  of  the  Middle  Ages),  in  contrast  with  an 
impetuous,  militant  will,  which  is  revealed  in  a  thousand 
passages  in  the  correspondence  of  Bernard,  by  violent 
excesses  of  language.  The  most  profound  and  most  sin¬ 
cere  humility  was  associated  with  a  very  lively  love  of 
power,  and  with  a  contempt  for  humanity  and  the  things 
of  this  world,  which  breaks  forth  in  haughty  expressions. 

Moreover,  the  man  is  admirably  depicted  in  his  writ¬ 
ings.  In  spite  of  his  abuse  of  allegory,  in  spite  of  plays 
on  words  and  quotations,  has  any  author  a  style  that  is 
more  individual,  more  original,  and  yet  more  disconcert¬ 
ing?  An  indefinable  mixture  of  the  serious  and  ironical, 
of  calm  and  violence,  of  simplicity  and  elevation.  On 
every  page,  familiar  expressions  are  intermingled  with 
the  harmonies  of  an  excessive  lyricism,  and  the  railing 


407 


Medieval  Civilization 

tone  changes  suddenly  to  apostrophes  inflamed  with  a 
passion  which  cannot  be  checked.  It  is  a  style  formed  of 
contrasts,  like  the  man  himself. 

“Contrasts,”  but  not  “incoherence.”  A  secret  logic  in 
St.  Bernard  binds  everything  together,  and  the  contra¬ 
dictions  are  only  apparent.  His  logic  was  founded, 
primarily,  upon  faith,  upon  an  absolute  faith,  which 
admitted  of  no  qualifications  and  extended  to  the  most 
complete  contempt  of  human  reason ;  and,  in  the  second 
place,  it  was  founded  upon  the  idea  which  St.  Bernard 
had  of  the  higher  interests  of  the  Church.  That  was  the 
supreme  criterion,  the  principle  to  which  he  subordinated 
all  his  acts,  to  which  he  sacrificed,  without  pity,  his  own 
inclinations,  his  dearest  affections,  the  private  interests 
of  his  friends  and  allies,  social  usages,  and  even  the  out¬ 
ward  coherence  of  his  thought  and  conduct.  It  is  because 
he  had  faith,  and  because  in  his  opinion  everything  must 
yield  to  the  general  good  of  the  Church,  that  his  rough 
frankness  did  not  consider  anyone,  that  he  attacked  vig¬ 
orously  the  same  institutions  and  the  same  men  to  whom 
he  had  formerly  been  devoted,  and  that  those  who  bene¬ 
fited  by  his  apostolic  zeal,  became,  in  turn,  its  victims. 

The  undeniable  influence  which  this  extraordinary 
man  exercised  over  his  contemporaries  sprang  precisely 
from  these  very  contradictions.  He  mastered  and  guided 
them  according  to  his  will,  because  his  complex  nature 
offered  something  which  satisfied  their  most  divergent 
aspirations.  Some  were  astonished  and  enraptured  by 
his  monastic  virtues,  his  holiness,  and  his  miracles;  he 
pleased  others  by  his  militant  zeal  and  his  power  as  an 
agitator;  still  others,  by  the  disinterestedness  which  he 

408 


Saint  Bernard 

showed  in  the  midst  of  circumstances  most  fitted  to 
intoxicate  a  man’s  ambition.  We  divine,  rather  than 
know,  the  secret  of  the  power  of  his  eloquence,  which 
irresistibly  carried  away  the  multitude  when  Bernard 
wished  to  lead  them  to  conversion,  to  the  cloister,  or  to 
the  crusade.  Contemporaries  describe  little  except  the 
effect,  of  a  physical  rather  than  moral  kind,  due  to  the 
contagious  force  of  a  vibrating  nature  formed  to  act 
upon  temperaments  which  were  impassioned  and  impres¬ 
sionable  to  excess. 

The  historical  work  of  St.  Bernard  may  be  summed 
up  in  a  few  words.  He  continued,  in  every  way,  the 
reform  of  the  Church,  directed  the  papacy,  in  order  to 
save  it  from  schism,  fought  for  the  unity  of  the  faith, 
and  caused  a  second  movement  of  Europe  against  Asia. 
The  Middle  Ages  do  not  offer  another  example  of  an 
activity  so  prodigious,  and  of  a  moral  power  so  univer¬ 
sally  accepted. 

Bernard  was  born  at  Fontaines,  near  Dijon,  of  a  family 
of  the  higher  nobility,  and  as  a  mere  youth  attempted  to 
convert  his  own  kinsmen  and  the  people  about  them.  In 
his  retreat  at  Chatillon,  “he  became  the  terror  of  mothers 
and  of  young  women  ;  friends  were  frightened  when  they 
saw  him  accosting  their  friends.”  He  was  an  impas¬ 
sioned  evangelist  and  could  comprehend  no  life  except 
that  of  the  cloister,  and  he  induced  his  brothers,  in  suc¬ 
cession,  to  follow  him  into  the  abbey  of  Citeaux  (1113- 
1114). 

He  was  an  admirable  monk,  it  might  be  said  the  ideal 
monk,  working  at  the  same  time  with  mind  and  body, 
wielding  the  sickle  with  a  skill  which  won  him  the  reputa- 


409 


Medieval  Civilization 

tion  "of  an  excellent  harvester.”  But  he  was  determined 
to  create  a  peculiar  system  of  monastic  life,  and,  on  June 
2 5,  1 1 14,  he  settled  in  the  uncultivated  and  wild  valley 
of  Clairvaux.  “The  cell  which  he  occupied  in  the  new 
monastery  resembled,”  in  the  words  of  his  most  recent 
biographer,  “a  prison.  A  corner  was  left  under  the  curv¬ 
ing  stairway.  In  this  angle  he  placed  his  bed,  on  which 
a  bit  of  wood,  covered  with  straw,  served  as  his  pillow. 
Under  the  mansard  roof,  in  the  wall  which  supported  it, 
was  cut  the  only  seat  in  the  cell,  elevated  a  foot  from  the 
floor.  When  he  wished  to  sit  down  or  get  up,  he  had  to 
bend  his  head  in  order  not  to  hit  the  beams.  A  tiny  open¬ 
ing  formed  the  window.”  The  ruler  of  Christian  Europe 
lived  there  more  than  thirty  years,  and  died  there. 

The  greatest  work  of  St.  Bernard  is  the  Cistercian 
Monk  and  the  rule  of  Citeaux. 

The  Cistercian  monk  ought  to  have  the  least  possible 
contact  with  the  outer  world.  An  abbey  of  this  order  is 
constructed  by  preference  far  from  cities,  in  a  wild  spot 
difficult  of  access.  Clairvaux  cannot,  like  Cluny,  own  all 
kinds  of  property.  The  rule  forbids  the  acquisition  of 
churches,  villages,  serfs,  ovens,  mills,  in  short,  everything 
that  constitutes  a  feudal  domain  and  a  source  of  political 
authority.  A  Cistercian  abbey  legally  exploits  only 
property  useful  for  the  manual  labor  of  the  monks,  fields, 
vineyards,  meadows,  and  woods.  The  monks  are  ab¬ 
solutely  interdicted  from  carrying  on  business  and  selling 
at  retail  the  products  of  their  lands.  They  are  not  less 
rigorously  interdicted  from  taking  the  cure  of  souls,  that 
is  to  say,  from  officiating  in  a  church  or  parochial  chapel. 
As  they  did  not  desire  the  presence  of  laymen,  the  Cis- 


410 


Saint  Bernard 

tercians  were  careful  not  to  open  a  school  and  admit  stu¬ 
dents.  Here  again  there  is  a  striking  contrast  to  the 
Cluniac  system.  They  were  afraid  of  everything  which 
directed  the  mind  toward  the  outer  world  and  toward 
profane  things.  They  were  suspicious  of  books,  literature 
and  science.  A  monk  guilty  of  making  verses  was  sent 
to  another  house.  The  servants,  who  were  not,  however, 
true  monks,  could  not  have  books  in  their  hands.  The 
Cistercians  were  satisfied  to  have  the  servants  learn  by 
heart  the  Lord’s  Prayer,  the  Creed,  the  Miserere  and  the 
Ave  Maria.  Faith  is  enough  for  pure  souls. 

A  return  to  asceticism  characterizes  the  rule  of  Clair- 
vaux,  just  as  it  does  the  rules  of  the  other  congregations 
which  sprang  from  the  reform  movement.  Chastity, 
obedience,  silence,  individual  poverty,  are  inviolable  ob¬ 
ligations.  One  of  the  most  heinous  crimes  that  a  Cis¬ 
tercian  monk  can  commit  is  to  be  a  proprietor ;  the  monk 
who  is  a  proprietor,  like  the  incendiary  or  the  thief,  is 
subject  to  excommunication.  At  Clairvaux,  not  merely 
was  meat  prohibited,  but  vegetables  fried  in  fat  were  not 
permitted,  and  even  the  sick  did  not  eat  meat  in  Lent  or 
on  Saturday.  No  white  bread,  no  spices,  fish  only  occa¬ 
sionally,  and  very  little  wine  were  allowed.  The  first 
associates  of  St.  Bernard  often  ate  beech  leaves.  They 
lived  on  peas,  lentils,  and  other  vegetables,  without  sea¬ 
soning  ;  and  these  poor  meals  were  prepared  by  the 
monks  themselves,  each  one  in  his  turn  serving  as  cook. 
The  additions  to  the  repasts  or  the  pittances,  which  were 
customary  at  Cluny  on  certain  days  of  the  week,  were 
formally  forbidden.  When  they  retired,  the  Cistercians 
threw  themselves  upon  their  beds,  all  clothed,  in  a  dor- 


Medieval  Civilization 

mitory  without  cells,  and  which,  of  course,  was  not 
warmed.  The  bed  was  composed  of  a  pillow,  two  covers, 
and  a  straw  tick.  The  mattress  was  a  Cluniac  institution : 
at  Clairvaux,  it  was  allowed  the  sick,  in  exceptional  cases. 

The  garment  of  the  Cistercian  differs  from  the  black 
robe  of  the  Cluniac :  it  is  gray,  the  natural  color  of  wool 
which  has  not  been  dyed.  The  Cistercians  were  absolutely 
forbidden  to  wear  furred  robes,  woolen  shirts,  hoods, 
gloves  and  boots,  as  so  many  of  the  abbots  and  monks  of 
the  older  congregations  did.  The  same  severity  of  prin¬ 
ciples  extends  to  the  ceremonies  of  worship.  The  Cis¬ 
tercians  chant  in  unison  without  an  organ.  In  their 
churches,  there  is  a  pitiless  proscription  of  everything 
which  appeals  to  the  eyes  or  the  senses,  of  everything 
which  may  distract  the  monk  from  contemplation  and 
prayer.  The  walls  are  bare ;  there  are  no  ornamented 
pavements,  no  mosaics,  no  colored-glass  windows,  no 
mural  paintings ;  there  are  no  statues,  and  only  the  cross 
is  tolerated,  and  even  then  no  large  gilded  or  silvered 
crosses.  Silk  ornaments  are  prohibited,  even  for  the 
grand  ceremonies.  On  the  exterior,  stone  towers  are  for¬ 
bidden  :  they  must  be  built  of  wood  and  be  of  small  size. 
Little  bells  alone  are  authorized.  Finally,  in  abbatial 
churches,  no  outsiders  are  to  be  buried  except  kings, 
queens,  archbishops,  and  bishops. 

Fundamentally,  Clairvaux  in  its  early  days  was  a  living 
satire  on  Cluny.  Clairvaux  is  the  model  abbey,  the  new 
creation  opposed  to  the  ancient  monastic  system.  Moral 
preponderance  and  religious  prestige  soon  passed  from 
the  Cluniacs  to  the  Cistercians.  Bernard  contributed  to 
Clairvaux’s  victory  by  the  fervor  of  his  propaganda, 


412 


Saint  Bernard 


working  with  all  his  might  to  drive  out  strange  monks, 
and  filling  the  episcopal  seats  with  Cistercians.  After  all, 
it  was  a  legitimate  rivalry ;  he  acted  in  this,  as  always, 
merely  under  the  sway  of  his  Christian  conviction.  His 
partisanship,  which  at  times  became  somewhat  heated  in 
the  struggle  against  the  rival  abbey,  brought  out  so  much 
the  better  the  sentiments  of  friendship  which  he  did  not 
cease  to  profess  for  its  chief,  Peter  the  Venerable,  a  re¬ 
former  of  practical  sense  and  mild  manners.  The  mutual 
affection  of  the  two  monks  triumphed  over  the  incidents 
which  seemed  almost  certain  to  alter  it. 

Peter  had  kept  at  Cluny  a  young  cousin  of  St.  Bernard, 
whom  the  latter  loved  with  special  tenderness.  St.  Ber¬ 
nard  complained  vigorously,  but  revenged  himself  by  tak¬ 
ing  the  bishopric  of  Langres  from  a  Cluniac  and  giving 
it  to  a  Cistercian  after  a  bitter  struggle.  The  conflict  be¬ 
came  more  intense  when  the  Cluniac  monks  of  Gigni  in 
Burgundy  destroyed  by  arms  a  priory  of  Citeaux.  Never¬ 
theless,  the  chiefs  of  the  two  orders  continued  their 
friendly  correspondence ;  a  meritorious  amity  due  less  to 
the  moderation  of  Bernard  than  to  the  uncommon  patience 
of  Peter  the  Venerable.  “Who  will  ever  be  able  to  stifle 
the  tender  affection  of  my  heart  for  you,”  wrote  the  latter, 
“since  so  many  storms  have  not  been  able  to  do  it,  up  to 
the  present  time,  and  since  our  friendship  has  resisted 
both  the  flood  of  the  rivalry  of  our  orders  and  the  tempest 
of  Langres?  ...  I  have  always  attempted  to  maintain 
harmony  between  my  brethren  and  yours,  and  if  possible, 
to  bring  all  hearts  together  in  perfect  charity.  In  pub¬ 
lic,  in  private,  in  our  great  capitulary  assemblies,  I  have 
never  ceased  to  endeavor  to  destroy  this  feeling  of 


413 


Medieval  Civilization 

jealousy  and  animosity  which  secretly  gnaws  at  our 
entrails.” 

Bernard  wished  to  show,  in  his  turn,  that  he  was  not 
animated  by  any  unkind  feeling  against  Cluny,  and,  be¬ 
tween  1123  and  1125,  he  wrote  the  Apology,  in  which  he 
protests  his  love  for  all  the  monastic  rules.  He  char¬ 
acterizes  as  “pharisees”  the  monks  who  speak  with  dis¬ 
dain  of  the  other  observances,  and  himself  celebrates  in 
magnificent  phrases  the  unity  of  the  regular  Church,  “the 
seamless  coat  of  many  colors.”  But  the  subject  carries 
him  away,  and  he  cannot  help  scourging,  with  his  sar¬ 
castic  heat,  the  soft  and  luxurious  habits  of  the  Benedic¬ 
tines.  He  does  not  attack  their  morality,  but  their  manner 
of  religious  life,  their  repugnance  for  mortifications  and 
manual  labor,  and  their  ideas  upon  the  external  conditions 
of  worship,  so  profoundly  different  from  his  own.  The 
Cluniacs  are  condemned  by  this  pitiless  judge,  even  for 
their  zeal  in  ornamenting  their  churches,  and  consecrating 
art  to  the  service  of  God :  “The  Church,”  he  said,  “is  re¬ 
splendent  in  its  walls  and  is  wholly  lacking  in  its  poor. 
It  gilds  its  stones  and  leaves  its  children  naked.  With 
the  silver  of  the  wretched,  it  charms  the  eyes  of  the 
rich.”  What  is  the  use  of  pictorial  representations,  sta¬ 
tues,  and  paintings?  All  that  stifles  devotion  and  recalls 
the  Jewish  ceremonies.  Works  of  art  are  idols,  which 
turn  man  from  God,  and,  at  best,  serve  only  to  excite  the 
piety  of  feeble  and  worldly  souls. 

The  fiery  apostle,  who  spoke  with  so  much  violence 
against  the  abuses  of  the  rival  congregation,  had  no  more 
indulgence  for  the  independent  monasteries  of  the  old 
order  of  St.  Benedict.  He  was  particularly  severe  on 


414 


Saint  Bernard 

the  royal  abbey  of  St.  Denis,  where  the  Capetian  mon¬ 
arch,  his  courtiers,  and  his  soldiers  felt  almost  at  home, 
and  prevented  the  monks  from  yielding  to  the  new  ideas. 
He  termed  it  “a  garrison,  a  school  of  Satan,  and  a  den 
of  thieves.”  When  the  abbot  Suger,  at  his  instigation,  had 
reformed  the  monastery,  Bernard  heaped  praises  upon 
him  with  as  much  ardor  as  he  had  formerly  shown  in 
reproaching  him  for  the  scandals.  “The  wounds  made 
by  a  friend,”  he  said,  “are  better  than  the  kisses  of  an 
enemy.” 

From  Clairvaux,  the  breath  of  monastic  reform  had 
already  passed  over  the  secular  Church  itself;  it  was 
necessary  to  induce  the  bishops  to  change  their  life  and 
breathe  in  the  Cistercian  spirit.  One  of  the  most  striking 
conversions  was  that  of  the  archbishop  of  Sens.  In  adopt¬ 
ing  reform  and  the  new  manner  of  life  which  it  involved, 
he  brought  upon  himself  the  hostility  of  the  king  of 
France  and  his  courtiers  (1130)  ;  but  Bernard  defended 
the  archbishop,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  say  of  Louis 
VI,  the  eldest  son  of  the  Church  and  the  protector  of  the 
papacy :  “This  new  Herod  no  longer  pursues  Christ  in 
his  cradle,  but  he  prevents  Him  from  triumphing  in  the 
churches.” 

The  reform  of  the  bishoprics  was  a  part  of  his  ideas  as 
well  as  the  reform  of  the  abbeys,  and  he  was  indignant 
at  obstacles.  With  as  much  boldness  as  he  had  shown 
in  denouncing  the  vices  of  the  monks  in  the  Apology,  he 
stigmatizes  the  vices  of  the  episcopacy  in  his  Treatise  on 
the  Duty  of  Bishops,  1126.  No  one  has  painted  in  more 
lively  colors  the  unworthiness  of  these  prelates,  who  be¬ 
lieved  that  they  were  doing  honor  to  their  ministry  by  the 


415 


Medieval  Civilization 

pomp  of  their  clothes,  the  luxury  of  their  horses  and 
equipment,  “and  who  spend  the  property  of  the  poor  in 
useless  extravagance.”  He  was  frightened  when  he  saw 
“unbearded  boys  elevated  by  family  influence  to  the  high¬ 
est  dignities  of  the  Church.  They  have  barely  escaped 
from  the  teacher’s  ferule  when  they  are  provided  with 
important  places  and  preside  over  assemblies  of  priests.” 
He  reproaches  them  with  wearing  “female  toilets”  and 
concludes  that  “a  good  bishop  is  a  rare  bird.” 

He  thought  that  the  fault  was  in  the  selection  of  the 
bishops,  always  vitiated  by  lay  influences.  He  has  not 
said  anywhere  exactly  what  his  opinion  was  on  the 
weighty  question  of  episcopal  elections;  but,  from  all  his 
writings  and  all  his  conduct,  the  idea  emerges  that  bishops 
can  be  canonically  instituted  only  by  the  choice  of  the 
clergy  and  the  people,  and  by  the  consent  of  the  bishops 
of  the  province.  It  was  a  return  to  the  practices  of  the 
primitive  church.  In  St.  Bernard’s  opinion,  the  nomina¬ 
tion  of  prelates  was  an  ecclesiastical  matter ;  the  king  had 
no  right  to  delay  an  election,  to  interfere  with  it  for  his 
own  profit,  and,  still  less,  to  impose  his  own  candidates. 
Thus  the  religious  party  of  which  Bernard  was  the  soul 
and  organ,  after  having  first  condemned  simony,  and  then 
investiture,  finally  rejected  all  interference  of  the  lay 
power  in  elections.  This  was  the  third  phase  in  the  re¬ 
form  movement.  The  abbot  of  Clairvaux  never  hesitated, 
any  more  than  the  popes  of  the  eleventh  century,  who 
were  his  models,  to  enter  into  a  struggle  even  with  the 
French  monarchy,  when  the  principles  of  reform  were  in 
question. 

And  why  should  he  have  hesitated  ?  Exclusively 

416 


Saint  Bernard 

dominated  by  the  religious  ideal,  he  never  considered  the 
point  of  view  of  the  progress  of  the  Capetian  dynasty, 
nor  even  the  special  interests  of  the  French  nation.  Those 
who  have  believed  and  said  the  opposite,  have  been  de¬ 
ceived. 

In  1891,  the  eight  hundredth  anniversary  of  St.  Bernard 
was  celebrated  in  the  ruins  of  the  old  castle  at  Fontaines- 
les-Dijon,  and  one  of  the  orators,  claiming  this  great  man 
was  the  most  national  and  the  most  French  of  all  the 
saints  (almost  equal  to  Joan  of  Arc),  spoke  “of  his  in¬ 
cessant  preoccupation  with  the  interests  of  France  and 
the  Church,  married  together.”  In  reality,  Bernard  rep¬ 
resents  no  special  nationality ;  he  personified  merely  the 
universal  Church  of  the  Middle  Ages,  regenerated  by  the 
monks.  He  is  above  dynastic  and  national  ideas  and 
acts  only  for  the  supreme  good  of  Christianity  and  re¬ 
form.  All  else  is  wholly  indifferent  and  strange  to  him. 
Thus,  his  standpoint  is  opposed  to  that  of  Suger,  who  was 
so  closely  bound  to  the  reigning  family  and  to  the  nation. 

In  certain  passages  of  Suger’s  Vie  de  Louis  le  Gros,  a 
vague  sentiment  of  the  unity  of  French  patriotism  begins 
to  appear.  There  is  nothing  like  this  in  the  writings  of 
the  founder  of  Clairvaux.  If  their  acts  are  studied,  the 
same  difference  comes  out.  When  the  Capetian  dynasty 
was  beginning  to  identify  itself  with  the  country,  St. 
Bernard  preferred  the  count  of  Champagne  to  the  king 
of  France.  When  Louis  VII  was  guilty  of  desiring  to 
name  an  archbishop  of  Bourges,  whom  the  court  of 
Rome  refused,  St.  Bernard  opposed  him  in  the  most 
vigorous  manner,  and  supported  passionately  Thibaud  IV 
of  Champagne,  the  ally  of  the  pope  and  the  enemy  of  the 


417 


Medieval  Civilization 

king.  He  also  favored,  at  least  indirectly,  the  impolitic 
divorce  of  Louis  VII  and  Eleanor  of  Aquitaine.  It  would 
be  as  puerile  to  deny  that  the  celebrated  abbot  acted  thus, 
as  to  condemn  him  in  the  name  of  principles  which  were 
not  his.  Both  he  and  Suger  acted,  each  in  his  own  sphere, 
conformably  to  his  situation  and  his  ideas,  and  the  two 
were  very  different.  To  nationalize  St.  Bernard  would 
be  equivalent  to  belittling  him. 

He  showed  himself  a  reformer  evei.  against  the  papacy, 
and  this  is  perhaps  the  most  original  side  of  his  aposto- 
late.  In  the  time  of  St.  Bernard,  the  omnipotence  of  the 
Holy  See  had  become  an  indisputable  fact.  But  then  the 
spirit  of  reform  began  to  turn  against  the  pontifical  mon¬ 
archy  itself,  and  tried  to  render  it  wholly  worthy  of  the 
absolute  authority  which  it  exercised.  A  party  with  ad¬ 
vanced  opinions  was  already  murmuring  against  the 
abuses  which  had  become  notorious :  the  excessive  multi¬ 
plication  of  exemptions,  the  exaggerated  extension  of 
appeals  to  Rome,  the  luxury  of  the  Roman  court,  its  at¬ 
tachment  to  temporal  interests,  and  the  venality  of  the 
cardinals.  The  most  ardent  of  the  reformers  condemned 
the  policy  of  compositions,  of  compromises,  of  oppor¬ 
tunism,  which  was  followed  by  the  successors  of  Gregory 
VII  and  Urban  II.  On  the  other  hand,  those  who  did 
not  desire  the  traditional  hierarchy  to  be  too  greatly 
weakened  were  already  disquieted  by  the  very  extent  of 
the  pontifical  power,  by  the  enormous  sovereignty  de¬ 
volved  upon  a  single  man,  which  was  very  apt  to  turn  the 
most  sensible  head. 

Of  all  these  griefs,  of  all  this  discontent,  of  all  these 
fears,  St.  Bernard  composed  the  woof  of  his  treatise  upon 

418 


Saint  Bernard 

the  Consideration  (1149-1152),  a  strange  work,  which 
has  been  called  “the  catechism  of  the  popes.”  It  is  a 
singular  catechism,  in  which  the  papacy,  in  the  person  of 
Eugenius  III,  receives  as  many  reprimands  and  blows  as 
marks  of  affection  and  friendly  counsels. 

In  order  to  warn  Eugenius  III  against  pride,  St.  Ber¬ 
nard  reminds  him,  in  biblical  terms,  that  a  foolish  king 
upon  his  throne  resembles  “an  ape  upon  a  roof,”  and  that 
the  dignity  with  which  he  is  clothed  does  not  prevent  him 
from  being  a  man,  “that  is  to  say,  a  poor,  miserable,  naked 
being,  made  for  work  and  not  for  honors.”  There  is 
neither  poison  nor  sword  which  Bernard  fears  as  much 
for  the  pope  as  the  passion  of  dominating.  Ambition  and 
cupidity,  in  the  Roman  church,  are  the  sources  of  the 
most  deplorable  abuses.  The  cardinals  are  “satraps”  who 
prefer  grandeur  to  truth.  And  how  can  anyone  justify 
the  unheard-of  luxury  of  the  Roman  court?  “I  do  not 
see  that  St.  Peter  has  ever  appeared  in  public  laden  with 
gold  and  jewels,  clothed  in  silk,  mounted  on  a  white 
mule,  surrounded  by  soldiers  and  followed  by  a  boisterous 
cortege.  .  .  .  From  the  pomp  which  surrounds  you,  you 
would  be  taken  rather  for  the  successor  of  Constantine 
than  for  the  successor  of  St.  Peter.” 

In  presenting  to  the  papacy  the  “mirror  in  which  it 
could  recognize  its  own  deformities,”  Bernard  hoped  to 
make  it  better.  He  relied  upon  the  services  which  he  had 
rendered  to  the  institution  to  secure  pardon  for  this 
severe  language. 

Services  that  were  as  immense  as  they  were  disinter¬ 
ested!  The  spectacle  at  which  the  West  looked  for  eight 
consecutive  years,  from  1130  to  1138,  has  remained 


419 


Medieval  Civilization 

unique  in  history.  Two  popes,  Anacletus  II  and  Inno¬ 
cent  II,  had  been  elected  at  the  same  time,  and  Bernard, 
in  order  to  end  the  schism,  made  himself  supreme  judge 
in  an  infinitely  complex  and  delicate  case.  He  declared 
with  remarkable  boldness  for  Innocent  II,  the  candidate 
whose  election  had  been  less  legal  in  form.  But  Bernard 
recognized  in  him  a  superior  moral  value,  and  thought 
that,  in  the  choice  of  a  pope,  votes  should  be  weighed  and 
not  counted.  Not  content  with  imposing  his  candidate 
on  the  clergy  and  on  Christian  opinion,  he  forced  kings 
and  high  barons  to  receive  him :  Louis  VI  at  the  council 
of  Etampes  and  Henry  Beauclerc  at  Chartres  solemnly 
ratified  the  judgment  of  the  abbot  of  Clairvaux.  During 
the  long  voyage  of  Innocent  through  France,  Normandy, 
Lorraine  and  the  lands  of  the  empire,  Bernard  accom¬ 
panied  his  protege,  cleared  all  obstacles  from  the  path, 
lavished  his  eloquence,  and  converted  or  confounded  op¬ 
ponents.  At  Liege,  the  emperor  Lothair  wished  to  abuse 
his  position  as  protector  of  the  new  pope,  to  repudiate 
the  Concordat  of  Worms,  and  to  put  the  Church  again 
under  the  yoke  of  the  State.  Everything  would  have 
been  lost  if  the  eloquent  intervention  of  the  monk  had 
not  saved  Innocent  II  from  this  great  peril.  The  em¬ 
peror  prostrated  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  pope  of  St. 
Bernard  (1131). 

The  man  who  thus  imposed  his  will  upon  Europe  was 
only  at  the  beginning  of  his  task.  Anacletus  remained 
master  of  Rome  and  of  Italy. 

It  was  necessary  to  persuade  Lothair  to  cross  the  Alps 
in  order  to  open  Rome  to  Innocent  II.  While  awaiting 
the  imperial  army,  the  indefatigable  Bernard  traversed 
upper  Italy  with  his  pope,  and  reconciled  the  Genoese 


420 


Saint  Bernard 

with  the  Pisans.  He  was  very  proud  of  this  new  victory : 
“How  rapidly  this  marvel  happened,”  he  said ;  “the  same 
day  I  have  sown  the  seed,  reaped  the  harvest,  and  loaded 
upon  my  shoulders  the  sheaves  of  peace.”  Finally  Lothair 
and  Innocent  entered  Rome  together,  and  the  emperor 
was  crowned  by  the  pope  (1133),  while  Anacletus  and 
his  defenders  barricaded  themselves  in  the  castle  of  St. 
Angelo.  But,  almost  as  soon  as  the  imperial  forces  had 
departed,  the  anti-pope  succeeded  in  again  driving  out 
his  rival,  who  took  refuge  at  Pisa.  In  order  to  repair 
this  breach,  Bernard  went  to  Germany.  He  bore  his 
aid  to  a  political  work  of  high  importance :  the  reconcilia¬ 
tion  of  Lothair  with  his  rivals,  Frederick  and  Conrad  of 
Hohenstaufen,  heirs  of  the  duchy  of  Swabia  and  per¬ 
petual  pretenders  to  the  empire.  Causing  them  to  enter 
into  alliance  with  the  emperor  was  taking  from  the  Ger¬ 
man  opposition  every  pretext  for  revolt  and  from  the 
anti-pope  useful  protection.  Bernard  appeared  at  the 
assembly  of  Bamberg;  he  spoke,  and  the  rivalries  of  the 
German  princes  were  again  appeased,  as  if  by  miracle. 
Lothair  gave  up  Swabia  to  the  Hohenstaufens,  and  the 
latter  promised  to  take  part  in  a  new  expedition  to  Italy. 
Then  the  saint  hastily  recrossed  the  Alps  and  went  to 
Pisa,  where  he  was  triumphantly  received.  A  council 
was  held  in  this  city  (June,  1135)  ;  it  was  necessary  again 
to  excommunicate  Anacletus  and  his  partisans,  to  affirm 
the  authority  of  Innocent,  to  reform  the  abuses,  and  to 
fortify  the  discipline  of  the  Church.  The  abbot  of  Clair- 
vaux  directed  the  action  of  the  council,  unraveled  all  the 
difficulties,  dictated  all  the  resolutions,  and  gave  life  to 
everything  with  his  powerful  breath. 

When  he  had  converted  Milan,  the  stronghold  of  the 
421 


Medieval  Civilization 

schismatics,  to  the  cause  of  Innocent  II,  the  enthusiasm 
became  delirium.  The  abbot  of  Clairvaux  alone,  by  his 
presence,  his  preaching,  and  his  miracles,  broke  succes¬ 
sively  every  obstacle  against  which  the  combined  efforts 
of  the  pope  and  the  emperor  had  failed.  The  crowd 
thronged  about  him,  acclaimed  him,  kissed  his  feet,  and 
cut  bits  from  his  garments  for  relics.  At  Milan,  every 
day,  the  sick  filled  the  presbytery  of  St.  Lawrence,  where 
he  was  stopping,  and  paralysis,  possession  by  the  devil, 
and  epilepsy  disappeared  under  the  touch  of  this  incom¬ 
parable  doctor.  Passive  in  the  midst  of  the  popular  in¬ 
toxication,  he  utilized  his  prestige  to  found  or  reform 
religious  establishments,  refusing  the  bishoprics  which 
were  offered  him  and  thinking  only  of  again  living  in  his 
dear  little  cell,  surrounded  by  his  brethren  of  Clairvaux. 

Sickness  tortured  him  without  intermission,  and  still 
more  did  his  scrupulous  conscience,  which  made  him 
consider  “monstrous”  the  life  to  which  the  Church  con¬ 
demned  him.  “I  do  not  know  what  kind  of  a  chimera  of 
my  age  I  am,  neither  clerk  nor  laic,  wearing  the  habit 
of  a  monk  and  not  keeping  the  observances.”  Neverthe¬ 
less,  he  was  obliged,  for  the  third  time,  to  leave  his  abbey, 
and  to  make  a  last  journey  to  Italy  (1137),  when  Lothair 
and  Innocent  came  to  open  strife  with  Roger  I,  king  of 
Sicily,  the  obstinate  partisan  of  Anacletus.  The  defeat 
of  the  Normans  at  Palermo,  the  urgent  reproofs  of 
Bernard,  and  above  all,  the  death  of  the  anti-pope,  at 
length  put  an  end  to  the  schism. 

At  the  news  of  the  disappearance  of  Anacletus,  the  joy 
of  the  abbot  of  Clairvaux  broke  forth :  “Thank  God,  the 
wretch  who  has  led  Israel  into  sin  has  been  swallowed 


422 


Saint  Bernard 

up  by  death  and  cast  into  the  bowels  of  hell.  May  all 
those  who  are  like  him  undergo  the  same  chastisement!” 
The  unity  of  the  Church  was  saved,  and  the  papacy  owed 
its  victory  to  the  devotion  and  heroism  of  a  simple 
monk.  Such  a  work  might  well  astonish  and  make  en¬ 
thusiastic  a  century  of  faith :  “Here  I  am,”  Bernard 
wrote  to  the  prior  of  Clairvaux ;  “I  no  longer  say  to  you : 
‘I  am  going  to  return’;  I  return;  I  am  here;  and  I  bring 
with  me  my  reward,  the  triumph  of  Christ  and  the  peace 
of  the  Church.” 

Bernard  found  his  reward  also  in  a  prodigious  increase 
of  moral  influence  and  in  the  fact  that  a  monk  of  his 
order,  Eugenius  III,  came  to  the  throne  of  St.  Peter 
(1145).  At  bottom,  the  cardinals  and  the  Roman  curia 
did  not  pardon  him  easily  for  being  what  he  had  become, 
a  private  man  more  powerful  in  the  Church  than  the 
pope  and  the  bishops,  and  holding  this  power  by  his  own 
personal  prestige.  They  even  went  so  far  as  to  make 
him  feel  that  he  was  too  much  inclined  to  substitute  his 
own  action  for  that  of  the  official  and  regular  govern¬ 
ment  of  Christianity.  “The  affairs  of  God  are  mine,”  he 
said,  with  imprudent  naivete  to  his  friend  the  cardinal 
Aimeri,  “and  nothing  which  concerns  Him  is  foreign  to 
me.”  The  cardinal  replied :  “In  the  Church  there  are 
divers  vocations.  All  is  at  peace  when  each  one  remains 
in  his  own  office  and  rank,  but  all  is  confused  and  disor¬ 
ganized  when  anyone  oversteps  the  bounds  of  his  profes¬ 
sional  position.  What  ought  a  monk  to  have  in  common 
with  courts  and  councils?” 

He  was  reproached  especially  for  his  disapproval  of 
the  irresistible  evolution  which  was  pressing  Rome  on  to 


423 


Medieval  Civilization 

desire  the  undivided  rule  of  Catholic  Europe.  If  the 
struggle  over  investitures  had  ended,  the  rivalry  between 
the  pope  and  the  emperor  still  continued.  It  was  the  eve 
of  the  furious  war  which  was  about  to  break  forth  be¬ 
tween  the  priesthood  and  the  empire.  It  was  important 
to  know  whether  pope  or  emperor  should  be  master  of 
Rome  and  Italy.  And  the  opinion  of  St.  Bernard  on  this 
weighty  question  was  known.  He  wished  the  mainte¬ 
nance  and  the  union  of  the  two  powers.  He  recognized 
the  temporal  right  of  the  emperors  over  the  city  of  Rome, 
since  in  a  letter  to  Conrad  III,  he  called  Rome  the  capital 
of  the  empire.  On  the  other  hand,  he  resisted  energeti¬ 
cally  the  tendency  which  was  leading  the  Holy  See  to 
busy  itself  with  terrestrial  things.  Not  that  he  con¬ 
demned  the  temporal  power  of  the  popes  in  precise  terms, 
but  what  he  wrote  and  what  he  did,  prove  that  this  power 
appeared  to  him  little  in  harmony  with  the  spiritual  mis¬ 
sion  of  the  papacy  and  dangerous  to  the  future  of  the 
institution.  Was  anything  more  needed  to  render  the 
abbot  of  Clairvaux  an  object  of  suspicion  to  the  states¬ 
men  who  directed  the  Roman  Church  and  who  aimed,  by 
it,  to  govern  the  entire  world? 

The  man  who  knew  how  to  reestablish  unity  in  the  re¬ 
ligious  government  of  the  Christian  peoples,  had  to  work 
also  to  maintain  it  in  the  domain  of  faith.  Bernard  strove 
with  the  same  zeal  against  the  attempts  which  human 
thought  was  already  making  to  shake  off  the  yoke  of  the 
Church  and  to  free  itself  from  tradition.  At  all  times,  he 
showed  himself  the  convinced  defender  of  the  ancient 
faith,  and  the  natural  enemy  of  the  novelties  introduced 
by  theologians  and  philosophers.  We  may  well  think 


424 


Saint  Bernard 

that  this  man,  who  corrected  his  friends  so  sharply,  did 
not  hesitate  to  enter  into  strife  with  the  enemy.  He  had 
the  unreflecting-  and  powerful  faith  of  simple  souls. 
Sometimes  he  pretended  that  instruction  in  the  great 
school  of  nature  was  enough :  “The  trees  and  the  rocks 
in  the  forest  will  teach  you  more  than  books” ;  sometimes 
he  recognized  the  apostles  as  his  sole  masters :  “They 
have  not  taught  me  to  read  Plato  and  to  pierce  through 
the  subtleties  of  Aristotle,  but  they  have  taught  me  to 
live,  and  that  is  no  small  knowledge.” 

Nevertheless,  he  knew  theology,  but  he  profoundly  de¬ 
spised  scholasticism  and  its  adepts :  “There  are  some,” 
he  added,  “who  wish  to  learn  only  for  the  sake  of  know¬ 
ledge,  and  this  curiosity  is  unworthy  of  a  man ;  others 
wish  to  learn  only  to  be  regarded  as  skillful,  and  this 
vanity  is  shameful ;  others  learn  only  to  make  gain  of 
their  knowledge  and  to  acquire  money  or  offices,  and  this 
traffic  is  dishonorable.”  Accordingly,  he  would  wish  to 
dissuade  young  men  from  coming  to  Paris  to  seek  know¬ 
ledge,  and,  by  knowledge,  pleasure  and  fortune.  “Flee 
from  Babylon,  and  save  your  souls,”  he  wrote  in  a  ser¬ 
mon  delivered  before  the  students  in  1140,  and  twenty 
of  them  followed  him  to  Clairvaux. 

In  reality,  learning  displeased  him  above  all  because 
he  found  it  dangerous  to  religion,  and  he  complained 
bitterly  of  the  boldness  of  his  century :  “Men  laugh  at 
the  popular  faith ;  they  lay  bare  the  divine  mysteries ; 
they  rashly  discuss  the  most  important  questions ;  they 
turn  to  derision  the  Fathers  who  have  preferred  to  quiet 
these  quarrels  rather  than  to  decide  them.  The  human 
mind  usurps  everything  and  leaves  nothing  to  faith.” 


425 


Medieval  Civilization 

He  combated  the  scholastic  heresy  (which  he  calls 
stultilogia) ,  in  the  person  of  Abelard  and  of  Gilbert 
de  la  Porree,  and  the  purely  religious  and  social  heresy, 
in  the  person  of  Henry  of  Lausanne  and  Peter  of  Bruys. 

Political  heresy  was  represented  by  Arnold  of  Brescia, 
a  popular  agitator  and  a  dangerous  tribune,  who  denied 
to  the  clergy  the  ability  to  possess  fiefs,  and  left  them 
only  religious  authority.  No  more  regalian  rights  for 
the  bishops,  no  more  collective  property  for  the  monks : 
the  tithe  was  enough  for  the  members  of  the  Church. 
Absolute  separation  of  the  temporal  from  the  spiritual 
is  necessary ;  priests  can  govern  only  conscience :  they 
have  no  rights  over  land  and  money.  Such  a  doctrine 
was  not  in  very  great  disagreement  with  the  ideas  of  cer¬ 
tain  apostles  of  ecclesiastical  reform.  The  Christian  ideal 
to  logical  minds  would  have  been  that  the  clergy  should 
renounce  territorial  possessions  and  the  pope  his  sover¬ 
eignty.  The  thesis  of  Arnold  of  Brescia  finally  excited 
the  people  in  large  cities  to  cast  off  the  rule  of  the 
bishops,  and  made  legitimate  the  communal  movement 
which  the  Church  had  condemned. 

The  abbot  of  Clairvaux  hastened  to  denounce  Arnold 
of  Brescia  as  a  man  who  was  so  much  the  more  to  be 
feared,  since,  as  he  lived  an  austere  life,  “he  had  the  form 
of  piety  without  its  spirit.” 

A  papal  legate,  who  loved  philosophy  and  philoso¬ 
phers,  was  imprudent  enough  to  offer  his  protection  to  the 
heresiarch.  The  reprimand  was  prompt:  “Arnold  of 
Brescia  is  a  man  of  amiable  and  seductive  conversation, 
but  his  teaching  is  poisoned ;  he  has  the  head  of  a  dove 
and  the  tail  of  a  scorpion,  a  monstrous  creature,  whom 

426 


Saint  Bernard 

the  city  of  Brescia  has  vomited  out,  whom  Rome  has  re¬ 
jected,  whom  France  has  repulsed,  whom  Germany  hates, 
whom  Italy  is  no  longer  willing  to  receive,  and  it  is  said 
that  you  have  given  him  an  asylum?  Protection  to  such 
a  man  is  infidelity  to  the  pope,  or,  rather,  to  God  Him¬ 
self.”  The  Roman  curia  understood  St.  Bernard’s  in¬ 
dignation  better  when  it  saw  the  Roman  people  putting 
in  practice  the  theories  of  Arnold,  emancipating  them¬ 
selves  by  pillage  and  murder,  and  proceeding  under  his 
direction  to  an  unintelligent  reconstruction  of  the  forms 
of  the  ancient  Latin  republic  (1143-1145). 

Bernard  violently  reproached  this  populace  with  mak¬ 
ing  Rome  “the  laughing  stock  of  the  whole  universe.” 
Since  the  schism,  he  had  for  the  Roman  people  a  con¬ 
temptuous  antipathy  which  he  did  not  conceal.  “What 
is  to  be  said  of  this  people?”  he  wrote,  in  his  Considera¬ 
tion,  “it  is  the  Roman  people ;  there  is  no  term  more  brief 
and  more  expressive  for  indicating  what  I  think  of  it.” 
But  elsewhere  he  made  his  idea  more  clear :  “Let  us  par¬ 
don  the  thieves ;  they  are  Romans  and  money  is  too  great 
a  temptation  for  them.”  He  was  but  little  interested  in 
the  cause  of  urban  liberty.  At  Reims,  where  he  attempted 
to  calm  the  effervescence  of  the  citizen  body  (1140),  all 
his  eloquence  failed  before  the  obstinacy  of  those  who 
wished  to  establish  the  commune.  In  his  opinion,  as  well 
as  in  the  opinion  of  the  whole  Church,  Louis  VII,  in  put¬ 
ting  down  these  insurgent  rascals  by  force,  only  fulfilled 
his  duty  as  king. 

The  monk  of  Clairvaux  could  not  admit  that  anyone 
should  dare  to  rise  against  the  established  powers  and 
attack  a  social  order  of  which  religion  was  the  very  foun- 

427 


Medieval  Civilization 

dation.  He  preached  charity,  he  pitied  the  wretched  and 
he  condemned  the  luxury  of  the  rich,  because  he  would 
have  desired  to  give  the  poor  the  necessaries  of  life;  but 
democratic  tendencies,  or  a  socialistic  theory,  in  the  mod¬ 
ern  sense  of  the  word,  would  be  sought  for  in  his  writings 
in  vain.  He  does  not  flatter  the  peasants  any  more  than 
he  cajoles  the  kings,  the  bishops,  and  the  popes.  He  re¬ 
proves  in  the  peasants  the  grossness  of  their  manners, 
their  spirit  of  gain  and  robbery  and  their  belief  in  sorcer¬ 
ers.  He  desires  the  people  to  continue,  as  in  the  past,  to 
pay  the  taxes  to  the  lord  and  the  tithes  to  the  curate. 

This  man  who,  by  dint  of  energy,  barely  succeeded  in 
keeping  in  his  body  the  life  which  was  always  ready  to 
vanish,  found  means,  before  his  death,  to  arouse  the 
whole  West  by  calling  it  anew  to  the  holy  war.  Ber¬ 
nard  was  the  son  of  a  soldier  and  a  great  partisan  of  the 
crusade.  He  had  contributed  more  than  anyone  else  to 
the  foundation  of  the  order  of  the  Templars,  the  knight- 
monks,  whose  rule  was  very  largely  his  work  (1128). 
His  Eulogy  of  the  New  Militia  was  inspired  by  a  breath 
which  was  wholly  military,  full  of  hatred  for  the  Saracen, 
and  intended  to  justify  religious  wars  and  to  inflame  the 
zeal  of  the  crusaders.  This  clerk  avows  that  there  are 
some  circumstances  which  make  it  necessary  and  even 
glorious  to  shed  blood :  “Undoubtedly,”  he  said,  “it 
would  not  be  necessary  to  kill  the  pagans  if  there  was  any 
other  means  of  stopping  their  invasions  and  preventing 
them  from  oppressing  the  faithful;  but  to-day  it  is  better 
to  massacre  them  than  to  leave  the  rod  of  sinners  sus¬ 
pended  over  the  heads  of  the  just.  Come,  let  the  children 
of  the  faith  draw  the  two  swords  against  the  enemy !  .  . 

428 


Saint  Bernard 

“Christ’s  knight,”  he  says  elsewhere,  “kills  conscienti¬ 
ously  and  dies  more  tranquilly :  in  dying,  he  secures  sal¬ 
vation  ;  in  killing,  he  labors  for  Christ.” 

The  second  crusade  was  his  work,  and  he  led  into  it 
kings,  of  whom  there  had  been  none  in  the  firgjt.  His 
apologists  to-day,  seeing  that  this  enterprise  failed,  have 
undertaken  to  show  that  he  was  not  the  author  of  it ;  that 
the  initiative  really  belonged  to  King  Louis  VII,  the  in¬ 
cendiary  of  Vitry,  and  to  Pope  Eugenius  III;  that  Ber¬ 
nard  followed  the  movement  as  the  orator  of  the  Roman 
Church,  charged  with  preaching  to  the  Christian  people. 
The  distinction  at  bottom  is  subtle.  If  it  is  true  that  the 
king  of  France  was  the  first  to  think  of  the  crusade,  St. 
Bernard  alone  brought  it  about,  because  he  alone  could 
enlist  the  nobility  which  had  not  yet  forgotten  the  dis¬ 
asters  of  the  preceding  expedition.  Everyone  knows  the 
succession  of  fatalities  by  which  the  second  crusade  ter¬ 
minated  in  a  catastrophe,  in  such  a  veritable  scandal  for 
religious  souls,  that  even  the  popularity  of  the  saint  was 
shaken.  He  underwent  this  new  trial  with  the  serenity 
of  the  believer  who  lives  only  for  celestial  things.  The 
sickness  which  was  consuming  him  did  not  prevent  him, 
however,  from  again  going  to  Metz,  a  few  weeks  before 
his  death,  in  order  to  put  an  end  to  the  bloody  quarrels  of 
the  nobles  and  the  citizens,  who  were  engaged  in  mutual 
slaughter.  This  last  effort  wore  him  out.  August  20, 
1153,  he  died,  surrounded  by  his  brethren  of  Clairvaux, 
in  this  peaceful  asylum,  where  the  Church  and  the  world 
had  not  let  him  repose  as  much  as  he  would  have  desired. 

He  did  not  die  soon  enough  to  avoid  seeing  the  lament¬ 
able  end  of  his  crusade ;  but  how  many  other  disappoint- 


429 


Medieval  Civilization 

ments  was  he  spared  by  death !  This  peerless  orator  lost 
most  of  the  causes  for  which  his  powerful  voice  had  re¬ 
sounded.  Fifty  years  after  his  death,  France  and  Europe 
saw  his  dearest  hopes  destroyed  and  his  most  generous 
dreams  dissipated. 

Fie  had  made  of  Clairvaux  the  chef-d’ceuvre  of  monas¬ 
tic  asceticism.  In  the  course  of  the  thirteenth  century 
the  congregation,  corrupted  by  the  very  liberality  of  the 
faithful,  had  no  longer  any  reason  to  reproach  Cluny. 
It  had  descended  to  the  same  point,  and  with  a  still  more 
rapid  fall.  The  very  life  of  its  founder  had  contributed 
to  its  destruction.  It  was  by  a  continuous  miracle  that 
the  first  abbot  of  Clairvaux  had  been  able  to  reconcile  the 
role  of  chief  of  a  monastery  with  the  general  government 
of  the  Christian  Church.  Absorbed  in  business  foreign 
to  their  true  functions,  his  successors  did  not  have,  as  he 
had  had,  the  strength  to  remain  truly  monks  in  the 
midst  of  politics  and  courts. 

As  a  reformer  of  the  episcopacy,  he  had  wanted  to 
prevent  the  interference  of  kings  in  elections.  The 
French  church,  becoming  more  and  more  monarchical, 
and  submitting,  on  the  other  hand,  to  the  will  of  the  popes 
and  the  cardinals,  lost  the  liberty  which  remained  to  it. 
In  combating  heresy  in  all  its  forms,  Bernard  had  at¬ 
tempted  to  make  faith  prevail  over  reason,  and  to  fetter 
the  flight  of  independent  thought.  But  such  a  current 
was  irresistible.  Heresies  multiplied,  and  southern 
France  had  to  be  drowned  in  blood  in  order  to  reestablish 
unity  of  belief.  At  the  same  moment,  scholasticism 
triumphed  in  the  schools,  and  the  University  of  Paris 
was  founded. 


430 


Saint  Bernard 

He  had  feared  that  the  Catholic  Church  would  become 
a  monarchy,  occupied  especially  with  terrestrial  interests 
and  excessively  centralized.  The  whole  Middle  Ages 
tended  to  this  end.  It  was  pursued  in  spite  of  him ;  and 
the  pontificate  of  Innocent  III,  a  preparation  for  that  of 
Boniface  VIII,  in  certain  respects  made  a  reality  of  the 
theocratic  idea. 

Finally,  Bernard  had  proclaimed  the  necessity  of  con¬ 
cord  between  the  priesthood  and  the  empire,  and  the  equal¬ 
ity  of  their  rights  over  Rome.  Ten  years  after  his  death, 
war  raged  between  these  two  powers,  and  the  pope  was 
chased  from  Rome  and  from  Italy.  Europe  entered  upon 
that  troubled  and  bloody  period,  which  was  terminated 
only  after  a  century  of  violent  strife  by  the  fall  of  the 
German  Empire. 

What,  then,  was  the  work  of  St.  Bernard  ?  The  useless 
opposition  of  a  man  of  genius  to  the  currents  which  were 
bearing  his  century  on.  Perhaps  it  might  be  said  that  the 
great  monk  of  Clairvaux  appears  as  an  accidental  cause  of 
trouble  in  the  normal  development  of  Catholicism  and  of 
the  general  institutions  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  isolated 
attempt  of  this  admirable  dreamer  was  condemned  in  ad¬ 
vance.  Nevertheless,  he  gave  new  vigor  to  Christian 
feeling,  raised  morality  for  a  time,  exalted  idealism,  and 
left  to  the  world  the  example  of  an  energy  and  of  a  virtue 
which  was  superhuman. 


431 


Southern  France  and  the  Religious 
Opposition 

Adapted  from  A.  Luchaire:  Innocent  III,  la  croisade  des  Albi- 
geois,  1905,  pp.  1-33. 

SUNNY  southern  France,— Gascony,  Languedoc,  and 
Provence,— in  the  twelfth  century  was  the  home  of 
a  lovable  people.  They  talked  a  charming  language,  had 
light  hearts  and  easy  manners.  Religion,  wholly  an  ex¬ 
ternal  form,  troubled  them  little.  The  troubadours  sang 
of  their  gallant  intrigues,  or  of  the  amusements  which 
they  sought  from  castle  to  castle,  or  of  the  lords  whom 
they  beguiled  into  giving  largesses.  Whether  they  were 
noble  or  not,  the  heroes  of  this  brilliant  world  were  inter¬ 
ested  chiefly  in  poetry,  and  the  cult  which  they  preferred 
was  the  worship  of  woman  and  pleasure.  Narbonne, 
Montpellier,  Arles,  and  Marseilles  had  their  consuls  and 
agencies  in  distant  countries  and  were  marts  for  the 
whole  known  world.  The  exchange  of  merchandise  and 
ideas,  the  diversity  of  races  and  religions,  and  the  mix¬ 
ture  of  oriental  and  occidental  elemetns,  brought  wealth 
and  also  the  mobility  of  disposition  and  the  taste  for  nov¬ 
elty  which  favor  all  kinds  of  changes. 

There  were  shadows  on  the  picture.  First  of  all,  there 
was  political  anarchy,  because  the  counts  of  Toulouse, 


432 


Southern  France 

high  suzerains  of  the  district,  had  not  been  able  to  use 
their  feudal  rights  in  such  a  way  as  to  obtain  the  mastery. 
Barons  waged  war  against  one  another,  cities  against  their 
lords,  the  laity  against  the  clergy;  and  brigands  infested 
the  land.  In  1182,  Bishop  Stephen  of  Tournay,  a  man 
of  letters  and  a  diplomat,  was  sent  on  a  mission  to  Tou¬ 
louse  by  Philip  Augustus.  He  returned  from  the  South 
very  badly  frightened.  Everywhere  he  had  seen  nothing 
but  “the  image  of  death,  churches  in  ruins,  villages  in 
ashes,  human  habitations  become  the  abiding-places  of 
wild  beasts.”  He  exaggerated.  The  Middle  Ages  over¬ 
did  oratorial  effects  and  rarely  gave  exact  statements  of 
facts.  The  same  scourges  were  devastating  to  a  greater 
or  less  degree  other  parts  of  France.  Everywhere  the 
people  were  suffering  from  the  same  troubles.  As  a 
whole  the  South  was  superior  to  the  North  in  its  culture, 
in  its  sonorous  language,  and  in  its  legal  customs  in  which 
the  Roman  law  was  still  influential.  Its  social  constitu¬ 
tion  was  more  merciful,  its  cities  more  free,  its  barriers 
between  the  classes  less  difficult,  and  its  serfdom  less 
rigorous.  In  addition,  and  this  was  the  side  where  its 
originality  was  greatest,  the  South  was  tolerant. 

Jews  could  live  there  without  being  persecuted  or  op¬ 
pressed.  They  were  permitted  to  hold  public  office.  The 
lords  and  even  the  prelates  willingly  confided  to  them 
the  management  of  their  finances  and  the  administration 
of  their  domains.  Commerce  and  industry  enriched  them 
in  broad  daylight.  Narbonne  then  contained  nearly  three 
hundred  Jewish  firms,  represented  by  branch  establish¬ 
ments  at  Pisa  and  Genoa.  Almost  everywhere  the  syna¬ 
gogue  rose  freely  side  by  side  with  the  church. 


433 


Medieval  Civilization 

Is  it  astonishing  that  heretics  profited  by  this  mental 
attitude  of  the  southerners  ?  Preachers  of  new  doctrines 
made  proselytes,  held  meetings,  and  defied  bishops  with¬ 
out  any  protest  from  the  multitude  or  any  interference 
from  the  authorities. 

An  impartial  and  well-informed  historian,  Guillaume 
de  Puylaurens,  states  that  the  knights  in  Languedoc  could 
with  impunity  belong  to  any  sect  which  they  chose. 
Pleresiarchs  were  not  persecuted  at  all ;  they  were  vener¬ 
ated.  They  had  the  right  to  acquire  land,  and  to  cultivate 
their  fields  and  vineyards.  They  possessed  large  houses 
where  they  preached  in  public  and  private,  and  cemeteries 
where  they  solemnly  interred  their  followers.  In  certain 
cities,  they  even  enjoyed  special  privileges ;  the  municipal 
or  seigniorial  administration  exempted  them  from  serv¬ 
ing  on  the  watch  and  paying  the  faille.  Those  who  trav¬ 
eled  with  them  had  no  attacks  to  fear,  and  were  protected 
by  the  respect  which  the  heresiarchs  inspired.  At  the 
moment  of  death  very  many  proprietors  and  citizens  be¬ 
queathed  to  the  heretical  ministers  who  came  to  assist 
them,  their  bed,  their  clothing,  and  their  money.  Relig¬ 
ious  etiquette  varies  in  vain  ;  customs  do  not  change.  One 
day  the  bishop  of  Albi  was  called  to  the  bedside  of  one 
of  his  kinsmen,  who  was  a  noble.  “  ‘Is  it  better  to  divide 
my  property  between  my  two  sons  or  to  leave  it  un¬ 
divided?’  asked  the  dying  man.  ‘Division  is  better,  in 
order  to  maintain  peace  between  your  heirs,’  replied  the 
prelate.  The  sick  man  promised  to  follow  this  advice. 
Then  the  bishop  asked  him  in  what  monastery  he  wished 
to  be  buried.  ‘Don’t  concern  yourself  about  that,’  was 
the  answer,  ‘my  arrangements  are  made.’  ‘But  tell 


434 


Southern  France 

me/  insisted  the  bishop.  ‘I  want  my  body  taken  to  the 
home  of  the  Good  Men’  (the  heretics).  The  bishop 
was  indignant  and  declared  that  he  would  not  allow  it. 
‘Don’t  trouble  yourself,'  continued  the  other,  ‘if  my 
wishes  were  opposed,  I  would  crawl  there  on  all  fours.’ 
The  bishop  left  this  man  as  one  abandoned  by  God,  but 
knew  that  it  was  not  possible  to  prevent  him  from  doing 
just  as  he  pleased.  By  this  you  see  how  powerful  heresy 
was  among  us.  A  bishop  was  not  in  a  position  to  check 
it  even  in  a  kinsman  subject  to  him.” 

“At  Lombers,  near  Albi,  dwelt  a  famous  heresiarch, 
Sicard  the  Cellarer.  The  same  bishop  was  in  this  town, 
and  the  knights  and  citizens  begged  him  to  hold  with 
Sicard  one  of  the  debates  in  which  the  representatives  of 
the  two  religions  argued  on  the  truth  of  their  doctrines. 
At  first  the  bishop  refused,  alleging  that  the  hardened 
sinner  would  never  acknowledge  his  mistake.  But  the 
inhabitants  insisted  and  the  bishop  consented,  in  order  not 
to  be  accused  of  shunning  the  combat.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  the  people  of  Lombers  thought  that  he,  and  not  his 
adversary,  would  be  worsted. 

“  ‘Sicard,’  said  the  bishop,  ‘you  are  in  my  diocese,  you 
live  in  my  territory,  you  ought  then  to  render  me  an  ac¬ 
count  of  your  belief.  Answer  the  questions  that  I  am 
going  to  ask  by  a  simple  yes  or  no.’  ‘All  right,’  replied 
Sicard.  ‘Do  you  believe,’  asked  the  bishop,  ‘that  Abel, 
the  victim  of  Cain,  Noah,  who  survived  the  flood,  Abra¬ 
ham,  Moses  and  the  other  prophets  before  Christ,  can 
be  saved?’  ‘No  one  of  them  is  saved,’  responded  the 
heresiarch.  ‘And  how  about  my  kinsman  who  has  just 
died?’  the  bishop  continued.  ‘Yes,  he  is  saved  because 


435 


Medieval  Civilization 

he  died  in  our  faith,'  answered  the  heretic.  Then  the 
bishop  said :  ‘Sicard,  the  same  thing  has  happened  to  you 
that  befell  a  doctor  in  my  diocese  who  had  recently  come 
from  Salerno.  When  he  saw  two  sick  men  he  prognos¬ 
ticated  that  one  would  die  the  following  night  and  the 
other  would  get  well.  Just  the  opposite  happened.  “I 
see,”  said  the  doctor,  “that  I  have  read  my  books  all 
wrong.  I  am  going  back  to  the  university  to  study  again 
what  I  have  studied  badly.”  You  are  in  the  same  posi¬ 
tion,  Sicard,  you  have  read  our  books  badly,  for  you  con¬ 
demn  those  whom  the  Scriptures  and  God  have  absolved, 
and  promise  salvation  to  a  man  who  has  always  lived  by 
crime  and  robbery.  Accordingly,  it  is  necessary  to  send 
you  back  to  school  to  learn  to  read  correctly.’  Having 
said  this,  the  bishop  went  away  and  Sicard  was  left  si¬ 
lent  and  in  confusion.  Nevertheless  the  bishop’s  author¬ 
ity  was  powerless  to  prevent  him  from  living  where  he 
was.” 

These  disputations  between  theologians  made  the  same 
impression  on  the  people  as  a  heated  tournament.  They 
followed  the  events  with  curiosity  and  marked  the 
blows.  In  1204,  at  Carcassonne,  Catholics  and  Cathari 
engaged  in  a  prolonged  joust  in  the  presence  of  the 
papal  legate  and  King  Peter  II  of  Aragon,  who  ad¬ 
judged  the  victory  to  the  champions  of  the  ancient  faith. 
Can  one  imagine  such  a  scene  in  northern  France? 
There  bishops  and  people,  instead  of  discussing  heresy, 
hastened  to  put  an  end  to  it.  The  South  allowed  it  to 
speak,  to  act,  and  even  to  organize  its  religion.  In  1167 
heresy  had  held  its  solemn  council,  a  reunion  of  Albi- 
gensian  and  foreign  bishops,  at  Saint-Felix-de-Caraman. 

436 


Southern  France 

Under  the  presidency  of  a  personage  from  the  Greek 
Empire,  and  without  being  disturbed,  it  regulated  ques¬ 
tions  of  internal  discipline  and  of  administrative  forms. 

After  this  time  it  seemed  as  if  the  cities  and  country 
districts  were  filled  with  sectarians.  In  1177  Ray¬ 
mond  V,  count  of  Toulouse,  sends  out  a  cry  of  alarm 
and  informs  the  Chapter  General  of  Citeaux  of  the  ter¬ 
rifying  development  of  the  new  religion :  “It  has  pene¬ 
trated  everywhere.  It  has  brought  discord  into  every 
family,  dividing  husband  from  wife,  son  from  father, 
daughter-in-law  from  mother-in-law.  The  priests  them¬ 
selves  yield  to  the  contagion.  The  churches  are  deserted 
and  are  falling  into  ruin.  For  my  part,  I  do  everything 
possible  to  arrest  such  a  scourge,  but  I  feel  that  my  own 
strength  is  insufficient  for  this  task.  The  most  impor¬ 
tant  personages  in  my  land  have  suffered  themselves  to 
be  corrupted.  The  crowd  has  followed  their  example 
and  has  abandoned  the  faith,  so  that  I  neither  dare  nor 
can  repress  the  evil.” 

The  question  of  the  number  of  dissidents  on  the  eve 
of  the  Albigensian  war  is  one  of  the  questions  which 
history  will  never  answer  with  exactitude.  Catholics 
have  designedly  exaggerated  the  number  in  order  to 
justify  the  work  of  proscription;  their  opponents,  in 
order  to  render  the  persecutors  more  odious,  regard  the 
heretics  of  Languedoc  as  an  insignificant  minority.  If 
they  had  been  such  a  negligible  quantity,  the  papacy 
would  not  have  let  loose  one  half  of  France  upon  the 
other ;  it  is  necessary  to  measure  the  danger  by  the  effort 
made  to  remedy  it.  Perhaps  the  Albigensians  were  in 
a  majority  in  certain  maritime  towns  of  Languedoc 


437 


Medieval  Civilization 

whence  the  sect  had  sprung.  But  the  ardor  and  the 
rapidity  of  their  propaganda,  the  inertia  of  the  public 
authorities,  and  the  support  which  they  found  among 
the  upper  classes,  rendered  them  everywhere  so  redoubt¬ 
able  that  the  Church  finally  believed  action  imperative 
and  defended  itself. 

Two  currents  of  religious  opposition,  one  native,  the 
other  foreign,  had  converged  upon  southern  France. 

Certain  doctrines,  spontaneously  born  in  the  French 
environment,  were  the  natural  result  of  reflection  and 
reason,  of  the  need  of  asceticism,  and  of  the  desire  to 
make  the  religious  system  harmonize  with  the  scruples 
of  moral  conscience.  As  these  reforms  were  directed 
toward  a  more  elevated  Christianity,  they  added  nothing 
positive  and  manifested  themselves  by  negations.  They 
did  not  desire  to  destroy  the  Church,  but  to  purify  it  by 
leading  it  back  to  its  beginnings.  Such  was  the  dream 
of  Peter  Waldo,  a  merchant  of  Lyons,  whose  followers 
were  popularly  called  “Poor  Men  of  Lyons.” 

Their  earliest  belief  contented  itself  with  preaching 
poverty  and  reading  the  Bible.  For  a  long  time  the 
clergy  in  the  South  tolerated  this  faith  and  even  allowed 
its  adherents  to  read  and  sing  in  the  churches.  They 
were  allowed  to  beg  from  door  to  door  and  the  tender¬ 
hearted  people,  while  remaining  good  Catholics,  gave 
them  hospitality.  These  disciples  of  voluntary  poverty, 
who  went  about  almost  bare-footed  and  wore  a  monk’s 
robe,  excited  nothing  but  sympathy.  But,  little  by  little, 
radical  tendencies  in  their  preaching  were  emphasized; 
by  dint  of  simplifying  Catholicism  they  came  almost  to 
the  point  of  suppressing  it.  They  were  destined  to  end 

438 


Southern  France 

by  denying  the  worship  of  saints,  purgatory,  transub- 
stantiation,  and  the  necessity  of  a  priesthood  and  an 
episcopacy,  of  a  hierarchy  constituted  by  ordination  and 
consecration.  They  desired  to  reduce  worship  to  preach¬ 
ing,  prayer,  and  the  reading  of  the  Gospel  and  sacred 
books,  which  were  to  be  put  within  the  reach  of  all  by 
translation  into  the  vernacular.  Finally  they  attributed 
to  every  believer  who  was  in  a  state  of  sanctity,  the 
power  to  confess  and  absolve  others. 

Although  the  Waldenses  took  from  the  Church  its 
wealth  and  political  power,  the  material  covering  in  which 
the  Middle  Ages  had  clothed  and,  as  it  were,  stifled  it, 
nevertheless  they  intended  all  the  more  to  remain  Chris¬ 
tians  and  even  thought  that  they  alone  possessed  true 
Christianity.  Far  from  wishing  that  their  belief  should 
be  confused  with  that  of  the  Albigenses,  they  were  at  first 
the  declared  opponents  of  the  Cathari.  “The  heretics 
were  not  agreed  among  themselves,”  wrote  Guillaume  de 
Puylaurens ;  “all,  however,  were  united  in  supplanting 
the  Catholic  faith ;  but  the  Waldenses  in  particular 
preached  violently  against  all  the  others.”  The  historian 
of  Simon  de  Montfort  and  the  orthodox  of  his  age  also 
knew  very  well  how  to  distinguish  one  from  the  other. 
“The  Waldenses  were  bad  but,  by  comparison,  very  much 
less  perverse  than  the  others.  Their  doctrine  was  in 
many  respects  the  same  as  what  we  profess ;  it  differed 
only  in  a  few  points.” 

This  explains  why  the  faith  of  the  Waldenses,  during 
the  last  thirty  years  of  the  twelfth  century,  spread  so 
quickly  and  so  far  from  the  place  of  its  origin.  It  was 
found  in  the  Rhone  valley,  in  the  Alps,  in  Lorraine,  in 


439 


Medieval  Civilization 

the  maritime  and  mountainous  regions  of  Languedoc,  in 
Lombardy,  in  Catalonia,  and  even  in  Aragon  where  it 
was  in  rivalry  with  Catharism.  Very  many  Catholics 
joined  the  Waldenses,  because  they  thought  they  were 
deviating  only  very  slightly  from  the  ancient  religion.  It 
is  true  that  in  practice  the  adversaries  of  heresy  rarely 
took  the  trouble  to  distinguish  one  from  the  other.  In 
time  of  war  and  before  the  funeral  pyre,  the  differences 
in  the  hostile  religions  disappeared.  In  the  mass  of  vic¬ 
tims  due  to  the  crusade  of  Innocent  III  there  were  per¬ 
haps  as  many  Waldenses  as  Cathari  or  real  Albigenses. 

Catharism  came  from  afar.  Originating  in  the  Orient, 
it  had  taken  shape  among  the  Greco-Slavs  of  the  Balkan 
peninsula,  and  especially  among  the  Bulgarians.  From 
there  it  had  spread  to  Bosnia,  to  Dalmatia,  and  through 
the  Adriatic  ports,  to  northern  Italy.  Since  the  beginning 
of  the  eleventh  century  it  had  been  brought  into  France 
by  students  and  merchants,  the  usual  intermediaries  of 
heresy.  Italians  frequented  the  great  French  schools  and 
the  fairs  at  Champagne,  Picardy,  and  Flanders.  Through 
them  the  new  belief  filtered  in,  at  first  sporadically  in 
most  of  the  populous  cities  of  northern  France,  Orleans, 
Chalons,  Reims,  Arras,  and  Soissons.  But  it  also  won, 
by  more  considerable  numbers,  the  region  of  Lower' Lan¬ 
guedoc  and  of  Provence.  The  first  groups  of  preachers 
in  the  sect  were  formed  at  Montpellier,  Narbonne  and 
Marseilles.  Thence  they  went  from  market  to  market, 
from  castle  to  castle,  and  spread  out  as  far  as  the  Pyre¬ 
nees  and  to  Toulouse  and  Agen.  Introducing  their  belief 
along  with  their  wares  they  converted  lords,  citizens  and 
peasants.  Luc,  bishop  of  Tuy,  one  of  the  most  violent 


440 


Southern  France 

opponents  of  heresy,  launched  against  them  this  mocking 
apostrophe:  “Do  you  find  in  the  New  Testament  that  the 
apostles  rushed  from  fair  to  fair  in  order  to  trade  and 
make  money?” 

The  religion  thus  peddled  was  not  a  system  of  purified 
Catholicism,  but  a  positive  belief  which  was  founded 
upon  a  principle  radically  different  from  that  of  the 
Christian  doctrine.  It  was  dualism  instead  of  mono¬ 
theism  :  a  good  god  who  was  the  creator  of  everything 
which  is  spirit,  and  of  everything  which  is  good,  over 
against  a  bad  god  who  was  the  author  of  bodies  and  mat¬ 
ter  and  of  physical  and  moral  evil.  Everything  which  is 
material  is  detestable  to  the  Cathari.  Contact  with  the 
flesh  constitutes  impurity,  loss  and  mortal  sin.  In  such  a 
belief,  acting  as  a  pure  spirit  is  perfection.  The  belief 
theoretically  condemns  marriage,  procreation  and  the 
family.  Carried  to  its  logical  conclusions  it  admits  only 
of  individuals  of  whom  each  is  his  own  center  and  his 
own  end.  In  fact  these  essential  principles  were  applied 
by  the  logical  spirits  of  the  sect,  by  those  who  directed  it 
and  were  called  “the  perfect.”  These  undoubtedly  were 
a  small  minority,  but  active  and  convinced.  This  elite 
furnished  to  Catharism  its  bishops  and  its  priests,  who 
were  clad  in  black.  It  maintained  enthusiasm  for  the 
faith  among  the  mass  of  believers. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  such  a  religious  system,  a 
survival  of  ancient  Manicheism,  was  inferior  to  Christian¬ 
ity  from  a  philosophical  point  of  view.  The  dogma  of 
divine  dualism,  on  which  everything  rested,  settled  in  far 
too  simple  a  manner  the  questions  of  the  relations  of  soul 
and  body  and  of  the  existence  of  evil.  Christian  specula- 


441 


Medieval  Civilization 

tion  attempts  to  reconcile  what  is  really  bound  together, 
i.  e.,  the  idea  of  perfection  and  absolute  power  with  the 
existence  of  evil,  and  the  spirit  with  matter.  Catharism, 
on  the  contrary,  finds  it  more  convenient  to  separate  them 
completely.  From  the  practical  point  of  view  it  rather 
weakened  the  social  bond,  for  it  exaggerated  the  exces¬ 
sive  tendencies  of  the  Middle  Ages  still  more ;  namely, 
abuse  of  self-mortification,  absolute  contempt  for  the 
flesh,  and  admiration  for  the  life  of  the  anchorite  or  of 
the  cloistered  monk. 

In  the  accounts  of  inquisition  trials  drawn  up  in  the 
middle  of  the  thirteenth  century,  but  which  often  refer 
to  much  earlier  facts,  it  is  not  merely  the  fanaticism  of 
the  inquisitor  which  astonishes  us,  but  also  the  fanaticism 
of  the  accused ;  the  opposition  of  the  Catharian  apostles 
to  the  most  powerful  instincts  of  human  nature  is 
astounding.  Those  whom  they  admit  to  an  active  role  in 
their  sect  ought  to  abandon  parents,  children,  husband, 
or  wife.  Obliged  to  follow  a  male  or  female  companion 
selected  for  them  they  are  condemned  to  perpetual  celi¬ 
bacy  and  abstinence.  They  leave  social  life  and  come  in 
contact  with  it  only  for  preaching  and  propaganda.  Very 
many  of  “the  perfect”  maintain  without  pity  that  to  be¬ 
long  to  their  church  is  necessary  to  salvation ;  that  those 
who  remain  outside  are  demons ;  and  that  this  is  true  even 
of  mere  infants,  even  of  those  who  are  in  the  mother’s 
womb,  the  impure  product  of  sin.  Sometimes  is  heard 
the  outcry  of  a  mother’s  heart.  “Why  have  I  lost  all  my 
children?”  a  witness  asked  of  two  heretics  who  had  told 
her  that  they  were  friends  of  God,  i.  e.,  “perfect.”  “Be¬ 
cause  all  your  children  were  demons,”  they  replied.  And 


442 


Southern  France 

after  that  the  woman  did  not  want  to  listen  to  their 
preaching.  Again,  a  husband  reproached  his  wife  for  not 
becoming  a  heretic  as  everyone  was  doing  in  their  village, 
and  he  vainly  attempted  to  compel  her.  She  was  obstinate 
in  avoiding  the  heretics ;  had  they  not  said  that  she  was 
bearing  a  demon  in  her  womb  ?  She  told  the  inquisitors, 
“My  husband  has  often  abused  and  beaten  me  because  I 
was  unwilling  to  love  them.” 

Albigensian  fanaticism  manifested  itself  in  another  ex¬ 
cess  :  the  aspiration  of  the  believer  for  death,  when  he 
had  received,  by  the  solemn  act  called  the  consolamentum, 
the  kind  of  baptism  in  extremis  which  ensured  him  salva¬ 
tion.  Then  the  sick,  happy  to  be  in  a  state  of  grace,  let 
themselves  die  of  hunger,  of  their  own  volition  or  by  the 
advice  of  a  minister.  And  when  the  instinct  of  self-pres¬ 
ervation  revolted  against  this,  the  kinsmen  were  at  hand 
to  overcome  it.  A  woman  who  was  called  as  a  witness 
said :  “For  two  days  my  daughter  refused  me  food  or 
drink,  because  she  did  not  wish  me  to  lose  the  benefit  of 
the  sacrament  which  had  been  conferred  upon  me.  Only 
on  the  third  day  was  I  able  to  procure  food  for  myself, 
and  I  recovered.” 

This  religion,  so  fundamentally  different  from  Cathol¬ 
icism,  so  productive  of  violations  of  human  instinct,  was 
foreign  in  every  way  to  the  sensual  and  tolerant  tempera¬ 
ment  of  the  Southerners.  How  did  it  make  so  many 
proselytes  among  them  ?  The  rigorous  asceticism  which 
sprang  from  the  principles  of  Catharism  was  obligatory 
only  upon  the  small  number  of  “the  perfect.”  For  good 
reasons  it  was  not  imposed  upon  the  mass  of  adherents. 
The  latter  undoubtedly  ought  to  imitate  the  leaders  as 


443 


Medieval  Civilization 

much  as  possible,  and  to  approach  their  ideal,  but  by 
tolerance  they  were  allowed  to  marry,  to  found  a  family, 
and  to  lead  the  common  life.  It  sufficed  for  their  salva¬ 
tion  that  they  should  receive  the  consolamentum  at  the 
hour  of  sickness  or  danger.  A  simple  imposition  of 
hands,  a  Pater  Noster,  and  they  had  paradise.  This  is 
the  way  in  which  the  monk  of  Vaux  de  Cernai  explains 
the  success  of  their  propaganda  while  at  the  same  time 
calumniating  the  sectarians  whom  he  detests.  “The 
heretics  who  are  called  believers  continue  to  live  in  the 
world.  Although  they  do  not  succeed  in  leading  the  life 
of  ‘the  perfect’  they  hope,  nevertheless,  to  be  saved  by 
their  faith.  These  believers  abandon  themselves  to  usury, 
theft,  homicide,  perjury  and  all  the  vices  of  the  flesh. 
They  sin  with  all  the  more  security  and  zest,  because  they 
have  no  need  of  confession  and  penitence.  It  suffices  if 
in  the  article  of  death  they  are  able  to  say  the  Lord’s 
prayer  and  receive  the  Holy  Ghost.” 

Moreover,  the  Cathari  appealed  to  certain  sentiments 
which  are  always  strong  in  the  multitude,  by  arousing 
among  the  poor  an  aversion  to  a  clergy  which  was  rich 
and  indifferent  to  social  misery.  The  heretical  school  of 
Perigord  taught  that  almsgiving  was  worthless,  “because 
no  one  ought  to  have  any  private  property.”  They  took 
care  to  recall  that  in  the  primitive  Church  no  Christian 
could  be  richer  than  any  other,  and  that  everything  was 
put  into  a  common  stock  for  the  benefit  of  all.  In  certain 
respects  the  community  of  “the  perfect”  among  the  Albi- 
genses  did  not  recognize  individual  property.  Money  re¬ 
ceived  from  the  faithful  by  donation  or  legacy  was  put 
into  a  common  fund  and  consecrated  to  the  relief  of  the 


444 


Southern  France 

disinherited.  “Do  you  wish  to  escape  from  your  wretched 
condition  ?”  they  said  to  the  poor.  “Come  to  us.  We  will 
take  care  of  you,  and  you  shall  lack  nothing.” 

Catharism  had  other  means  of  seduction :  no  purgatory 
(prayers  can  do  nothing  for  the  dead)  and  no  hell.  Hell, 
to  the  Albigenses,  the  place  of  penitence  and  of  punish¬ 
ment,  was  this  earth,  the  bodily  life  in  the  visible  world. 
After  a  more  or  less  lengthy  passage  through  various 
human  bodies,  all  the  souls  are  finally  saved.  It  is  easy 
to  see  how  attractive  such  a  perspective  was  to  the  multi¬ 
tude.  They  did  not  ask  how  the  theory  of  eternal  happi¬ 
ness  reserved  for  all  could  be  reconciled  with  the  belief 
in  demons  and  with  the  denial  of  salvation  for  those  who 
did  not  belong  to  the  sect.  They  were  satisfied  to  think 
that  in  becoming  Cathari  they  escaped  an  eternity  of 
punishment  and  spared  their  reason  the  torment  of  in¬ 
soluble  mysteries.  The  religion  of  the  Albigenses  did  not 
admit  the  Trinity.  Christ  was  for  them  only  a  creature, 
an  angel  of  the  first  order,  and  the  Holy  Ghost  the  chief 
of  celestial  intelligences.  Dogmatic  difficulties,  such  as 
incarnation,  the  resurrection  and  the  ascension  of  Christ, 
disappeared,  since  Jesus  was  not  made  flesh  and  had  only 
an  apparent  humanity.  The  Virgin  also  was  only  an 
angel  and  not  the  veritable  mother  of  the  Son  of  God. 
Finally,  the  Cathari  did  not  have  to  inquire  into  the  man¬ 
ner  in  which,  at  the  last  judgment,  bodies  which  had 
been  dissolved  and  destroyed  could  find  themselves  again 
intact.  They  believed  that  only  souls  were  to  be  resur¬ 
rected. 

Even  the  least  Christian  element  in  the  new  religion, 
the  existence  of  a  bad  god,  was  not  so  repugnant  to  the 


445 


Medieval  Civilization 

intelligence  of  the  Catholic  masses  as  one  might  suppose. 
We  know  how  great  a  place  the  devil  occupied  in  their 
imagination,  what  powers  they  attributed  to  him  and  how 
easily  they  believed  in  his  frequent  intervention.  The 
propagation  of  Catharism  was  so  much  the  more  rapid 
because  its  preachers,  instead  of  dwelling  upon  the  exotic 
characteristics  in  their  belief,  strove  to  bring  out  its  re¬ 
lations  with  the  ancient  faith.  They  clung  to  Christianity 
with  all  their  might  and  protested  against  the  accusation 
of  heresy.  From  their  accounts  it  was  Catholicism  which 
went  astray  from  the  true  Christian  tradition ;  they,  for 
their  part,  were  merely  reestablishing  the  worship  and 
doctrines  of  the  primitive  Church.  In  fact,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  deny  the  striking  analogy  between  the  Cath- 
arian  ceremonies  and  those  of  the  Christian  liturgy  of  the 
first  centuries.  The  sectarians  relied  upon  the  New  Tes¬ 
tament  in  combating  the  degenerate  Catholicism ;  they 
practised  Christ’s  morality  and  thought  that  they  too  had 
been  sent  on  earth  to  deliver  souls.  Although  they  saw 
in  the  Old  Testament  chiefly  Satan’s  work,  they  took 
from  it  whatever  suited  them  and  interpreted  it  symbol¬ 
ically  ;  thus  they  preserved  the  sacred  books  of  the  Cath¬ 
olics.  They  also  kept  the  great  religious  festivals,  Christ¬ 
mas,  Easter,  and  Pentecost ;  they  practised  a  kind  of  con¬ 
fession,  the  appareillamentum,  which  was  merely  the  pub¬ 
lic  confession  of  the  early  Christians ;  they  had  even 
formed  for  themselves  a  hierarchical  organization  of 
priests  and  bishops,  with  diocesan  boundaries  almost 
identical  with  those  of  the  ancient  clergy.  They  lacked 
only  a  pope.  The  adept  in  the  Albigensian  religion  might 
have  an  allusion  that  after  all,  in  abandoning  the  faith  of 

446 


Southern  France 

his  fathers,  he  was  not  making  such  a  complete  change  in 
environment,  traditions  and  habits. 

Add  the  impression  made  upon  the  multitude  by  the 
austere  life  of  “the  perfect,”  and  the  comparison  which 
was  inevitable  with  the  kind  of  life  led  by  the  prelates  of 
the  Roman  Church.  Undoubtedly,  however  elevated  its 
ideal,  every  human  society  has  its  tares,  its  scabby  sheep 
and  its  bad  shepherds.  The  reports  of  inquisition  trials 
show  that  certain  ministers  of  Catharism  abused  their  po¬ 
sition  in  order  to  extort  money  from  the  sick  or  to  sed.uce 
their  parishioners.  But  these  reports  never  mention  the 
nocturnal  orgies  with  which  the  multitude  was  wont  to 
reproach  the  partisans  of  heresy.  On  the  contrary  they 
establish  beyond  a  doubt  the  rigid  chastity  of  the  Cath- 
arian  apostles  and  their  over-scrupulous  precautions  for 
shunning  even  the  appearance  of  contact  with  women. 
The  contemporaries  who  were  not  blinded  by  hatred  have 
themselves  recognized  the  high  morality  of  the  sect.  One 
day  after  hearing  the  bishop  of  Toulouse  preach  a  knight, 
who  was  a  Catharian,  cried  out:  “We  would  never  have 
believed  that  the  Roman  Church  had  such  strong  reasons 
for  opposing  our  ministers  1”  “Why,”  replied  the  bishop, 
“do  you  not  see  that  they  cannot  answer  my  objections?” 
“Yes,  we  see  it,”  said  the  knight.  “Then  why  don’t  you 
drive  them  out  of  your  land?”  asked  the  bishop.  And  the 
other  replied:  “We  cannot.  We  have  been  brought  up 
among  them;  several  of  our  kinsmen  are  living  with 
them  and  we  are  obliged  to  admit  that  they  act  very 
honorably.” 

The  spread  of  Albigensian  heresy,  accordingly,  is  ex¬ 
plained  by  its  very  nature  and  by  the  character  of  those 


447 


Medieval  Civilization 

who  propagated  it.  But  the  social  condition  of  the  coun¬ 
try  was  remarkably  favorable  to  the  work  of  the  preach¬ 
ers  ;  the  land  was  ready  when  the  seed  was  sown. 

The  first  favorable  circumstance  for  the  heretics  was 
that  they  had  only  to  contend  with  a  clergy  which  was 
destitute  of  moral  influence  and  profoundly  discredited. 
“The  laymen,”  says  Guillaume  de  Puylaurens,  “had  so 
little  respect  for  their  priests  that  they  put  them  on  the 
same  footing  as  the  Jews.  When  they  swore,  instead  of 
saying:  ‘I  had  rather  be  a  Jew  than  do  that,’  they  said, 
T  had  rather  be  a  priest.’  When  priests  appeared  in  pub¬ 
lic  they  took  care  to  hide  their  tonsure.  Knights  in  our 
country  very  rarely  dedicate  their  sons  to  a  clerical  life. 
In  churches  where  they  receive  the  tithe  (by  virtue  of 
their  right  of  patronage),  they  present  the  son  of  a  tenant 
or  of  an  official  for  the  rectorship,  and  thus  bishops  are 
obliged  to  ordain  the  first-comer.” 

Bishops  and  abbots  led  a  scarcely  more  regular  life 
than  those  who  were  merely  priests.  Councils  in  southern 
France  ordered  them  to  wear  the  tonsure  and  the  garb  of 
their  order.  They  forbade  them  to  put  on  luxurious  furs, 
to  use  decorated  saddles  and  gilded  bridles,  to  play  games 
of  chance,  to  hunt,  to  curse  and  suffer  others  about  them 
to  curse,  to  have  actors  and  musicians  at  their  tables,  to 
hear  matins  in  bed,  to  chat  about  frivolous  matters  during 
the  service,  and  to  excommunicate  at  random.  They 
ought  not  to  leave  their  diocese ;  they  ought  to  convoke 
their  synod  at  least  once  a  year ;  in  their  episcopal  visita¬ 
tions  they  ought  not  to  take  with  them  too  numerous  a 
suite,  as  it  was  an  oppressive  burden  for  those  who  re¬ 
ceived  them.  They  were  forbidden  to  take  money  for  con- 

448 


Southern  France 

ferring  orders,  for  tolerating  the  concubinage  of  priests, 
for  dispensing  with  marriage  bans,  or  for  freeing  the 
guilty  from  ecclesiastical  penalties.  Finally  they  were  for¬ 
bidden  to  exact  payment  for  celebrating  unlawful  mar¬ 
riages  and  breaking  legal  testaments. 

This  list  of  abuses  which  were  prohibited  is  in  itself  a 
tableau  of  customs.  When  we  add  to  it  the  confessions 
of  a  monastic  chronicler,  Geoffrey  de  Vigeois,  the  sar¬ 
casms  of  certain  troubadours,  and  above  all  the  accusa¬ 
tions  contained  in  the  letters  of  Innocent  III,  we  are  in  a 
position  to  judge  the  usual  conduct  of  the  prelates  of 
Languedoc.  It  is  sufficient  to  see  the  terms  in  which  this 
pope  spoke  of  the  clergy  in  the  diocese  of  Narbonne  and 
of  its  chief,  the  archbishop.  “Blind  men,  dumb  dogs  who 
are  no  longer  able  to  bark,  and  simoniacs  who  sell  justice, 
who  absolve  the  rich  and  condemn  the  poor.  They  do 
not  even  observe  the  laws  of  the  Church  ;  they  accumulate 
benefices  and  entrust  sacerdotal  and  ecclesiastical  func¬ 
tions  to  unworthy  priests  and  illiterate  children.  That  is 
the  cause  of  the  insolence  of  the  heretics,  and  of  the  con¬ 
tempt  felt  by  lords  and  people  for  God  and  His  church. 
Prelates  in  this  region  are  the  laughing  stock  of  the  laity. 
But  the  archbishop  of  Narbonne  is  the  root  of  all  the  evil. 
This  man  knows  no  god  but  money ;  he  has  only  a  purse 
instead  of  a  heart.  During  the  ten  years  that  he  has  held 
his  office  he  has  not  visited  his  province  once,  not  even  his 
own  diocese.  He  extorted  five  hundred  sous  of  gold  for 
consecrating  the  bishop  of  Maguelonne,  and  when  we 
asked  him  to  raise  subsidies  for  the  safety  of  the  Chris¬ 
tians  in  the  Orient,  he  refused  to  obey  us.  When  a  church 
becomes  vacant,  he  neglects  to  name  an  incumbent,  in  or- 


449 


Medieval  Civilization 

der  that  he  may  profit  from  the  revenues.  He  reduces  by 
one  half  the  number  of  canons  in  Narbonne  in  order  to 
appropriate  the  prebends  to  himself  and  also  keeps  vacant 
archdeaconries  in  his  own  hands.  In  his  diocese  monks 
and  canons  regular  cast  their  frocks  aside,  take  wives, 
live  by  usury,  and  become  advocates,  jongleurs  or  doc¬ 
tors.” 

Compromised  by  the  unworthiness  of  its  own  members, 
the  southern  Church  was  still  more  enfeebled  by  the  con¬ 
stant  attacks  of  the  barons  who  were  rabidly  determined 
to  plunder  it.  The  war  which  the  nobles  made  on  the 
clergy,  the  continuous  plague  of  the  Middle  Ages,  had 
taken  on  in  this  region  a  character  of  malevolent  harsh¬ 
ness.  Feudalism  dared  to  do  anything  against  bishops 
and  abbots  who  were  not  protected  by  the  respect  of  the 
multitude. 

At  Toulouse  the  bishop  is  so  harried  by  the  nobles  in 
the  neighborhood  that  he  implores  safe-conducts  from 
them  in  order  that  he  may  make  his  diocesan  rounds.  His 
mules  can  not  go  to  the  river  or  horse-pond  without  an 
escort,  so  that  the  attendants  are  often  reduced  to  giving 
them  drinking  water  from  the  well  within  the  bishop’s 
house.  What  can  the  count  of  Toulouse  do  to  defend 
his  bishop?  He  himself  represses  with  great  difficulty 
these  vassals  who  are  incessantly  rebelling ;  and,  more¬ 
over,  this  high  suzerain  does  not  act  any  differently  from 
the  others.  He  persecutes  the  abbey  of  Moissac  and  gets 
himself  excommunicated  in  1196  by  Pope  Celestine  III 
because  he  has  destroyed  several  churches  dependent 
upon  St.  Gilles,  has  put  the  men  of  this  monastery  to 
ransom  and  has  built  a  fortress  which  menaces  the  abbot. 


450 


Southern  France 

From  one  end  of  Languedoc  to  the  other  the  church  was 
suffering  from  the  same  attacks;  Roger  II,  viscount  of 
Beziers,  sacked  an  abby  (1171),  threw  the  bishop  of 
Albi  into  prison  and  found  it  amusing  to  make  a  heretic 
fiis  gaoler  (1178).  In  1197  the  monks  of  Alet  elected  an 
abbot  who  was  not  acceptable  to  the  guardian  of  the  new 
viscount  of  Beziers,  and  the  latter  put  the  abbey  to  fire 
and  sword  and  imprisoned  the  abbot.  Then,  animated  by 
a  ghastly  whim,  he  had  the  corpse  of  the  dead  abbot  in¬ 
stalled  in  the  abbot’s  pulpit  until  he  had  forced  the  monks 
to  elect  one  of  his  own  creatures. 

At  Pamiers  the  followers  of  the  count  of  Foix,  Ray¬ 
mond  Roger,  cut  in  pieces  one  of  the  canons  of  an  abbey 
and  put  out  the  eyes  of  another  brother  in  the  same  house. 
The  count  arrived  soon  after  with  his  knights,  jesters, 
and  courtesans,  shut  up  the  abbot  and  his  monks  in  a 
church,  where  he  left  them  for  three  days  without  food, 
and  finally  drove  them  out,  almost  naked,  from  the  terri¬ 
tory  of  their  own  city.  This  “very  cruel  dog,”  as  Pierre 
des  Vaux  de  Cernai  calls  him,  besieged  the  church  of 
Urgel  and  left  only  the  four  walls  standing.  With  the 
arms  and  legs  from  the  crucifixes,  the  soldiers  in  his  com¬ 
pany  made  pestels  for  grinding  their  food.  Their  horses 
ate  oats  from  the  altars;  they  themselves,  after  having 
dressed  up  the  images  of  Christ  with  helmet  and  shield, 
practised  piercing  these  with  their  lances,  just  like  the 
manikins  used  for  the  quintain. 

Highwaymen’s  amusements!  The  war  of  which  the 
clergy  were  the  victims  was  made  more  outrageous  by  the 
employment  of  these  hordes  of  brigands.  It  did  no  good 
to  excommunicate  them.  They  took  special  pleasure  in 


451 


Medieval  Civilization 

polluting  holy  places  and  in  giving  to  their  ravages  a 
flavor  of  sacrilege.  In  spite  of  the  prohibitions  and  the 
threats  of  the  Church,  the  counts  and  viscounts  could  not 
get  along  without  the  brigands.  In  their  lands  the  bond 
of  vassalage  was  so  weak  or  so  little  respected  that  the 
military  obligations  regularly  due  by  the  feudal  law 
would  not  have  sufficed  to  procure  for  them  the  necessary 
troops  for  offensive  and  defensive  war.  The  free-booter 
was  a  necessary  evil.  The  Church  did  not  understand 
this  and  saw,  in  these  robbers  hired  by  the  nobles,  only 
heretics  paid  to  destroy  it.  In  this  respect  it  was  deceived. 
In  every  part  of  France  where  he  happened  to  be,  the 
free-booter,  impious  by  profession,  went  straight  for  the 
churches  and  convents,  attracted  by  their  treasure. 

The  noble  with  his  brutal  passions  was  not  the  only 
enemy  of  the  clergy.  How  could  the  burgesses  thrive  and 
become  independent  without  dispossessing  the  seigniories 
which  held  the  cities,  bishoprics,  chapters  and  abbeys? 
The  conflicts  with  the  Church  over  their  respective  juris¬ 
dictions  and  interests  led  to  equally  violent  crises.  In 
1167  the  inhabitants  of  Beziers,  after  assassinating  their 
viscount,  threw  themselves  upon  their  bishop  and.  knocked 
out  his  teeth.  In  1194  the  burgesses  of  Mende  expelled 
their  bishop.  In  1195  the  people  of  Capestang  were  ex¬ 
communicated  for  imprisoning  the  bishop  of  Lodeve  and 
demanding  a  ransom  of  him.  Three  years  later,  the  bur¬ 
gesses  of  Lodeve  pillaged  the  bishop’s  palace  and  with  a 
knife  at  his  throat  compelled  the  same  bishop  to  give 
them  their  liberties. 

Wherever  lords  and  burgesses  were  warring  against 
the  clergy,  they  received  enthusiastically  those  people  who 


452 


Southern  France 

eame,  in  the  name  of  a  new  religion  or  with  an  ideal  of 
higher  morality,  to  combat  Catholicism  and  to  attempt  to 
supplant  it.  The  Catharian  or  the  Waldensian  preacher 
was  an  unexpected  auxiliary.  Very  soon,  interest  in 
the  unknown  and  dilettanteism  had  an  influence  and  it 
became  the  fashion  in  the  feudal  world  and  in  the  cities 
to  show  a  contempt  for  the  ancient  worship  and  to  favor 
the  new.  The  count  of  Foix  remained  on  horseback,  with 
his  head  up,  in  the  presence  of  a  procession  which  was 
passing  with  some  relics.  He  lived  surrounded  by  sec¬ 
taries.  His  wife  and  one  of  his  sisters  were  Waldenses. 
In  1204  he  was  at  the  castle  of  Fanjeaux,  a  stronghold 
of  heresy,  surrounded  by  a  group  of  knights  and  citizens. 
In  his  presence  his  other  sister  and  four  other  noble  ladies 
were  initiated  into  Catharism  by  the  bishop.  They  prom¬ 
ised  in  the  future  to  eat  no  more  meat,  eggs  or  cheese, 
but  only  oil  and  fish.  They  also  bound  themselves  not  to 
lie  or  swear,  to  maintain  perpetual  chastity,  and  to  prac¬ 
tise  the  new  religion  as  long  as  they  lived.  The  heretics 
had  them  recite  the  Pater  Noster,  laid  their  hands  upon 
them,  and  then  placed  a  Gospel  on  their  heads.  After¬ 
ward  all  who  were  present  prostrated  themselves  before 
the  ministers  who  had  just  officiated,  and  exchanged  the 
kiss  of  peace.  Forty  years  later  the  scene  was  described 
by  a  witness  of  the  inquisition. 

The  collection  of  scandal  carefully  gathered  by  the 
monk  of  Cernai,  is  not  silent  about  Raymond  VI, 
count  of  Toulouse.  “I  want  to  have  my  son  educated 
among  you,”  he  said  to  the  heretics  at  Toulouse.  He 
affirmed  that  he  would  gladly  give  a  hundred  marks  of 
silver  to  have  one  of  his  knights  converted  to  their  belief. 


453 


Medieval  Civilization 

He  accepted  with  pleasure  presents  from  the  sectaries; 
he  was  seen  to  prostrate  himself  before  their  ministers, 
to  ask  their  blessing  and  to  embrace  them.  One  day  when 
he  was  impatiently  awaiting  some  soldiers  who  did  not 
come,  he  said,  “It  is  evident  that  it  is  the  devil  who  created 
the  world,  for  nothing  is  done  as  I  would  like  it.”  He 
protested  to  the  bishop  of  Toulouse  that  the  monks  of 
Citeaux  could  not  be  saved,  “because  the  people  subject 
to  them  were  consumed  with  luxury.”  He  dared  to  in¬ 
vite  the  bishop  to  come  to  his  palace  one  night  and  be 
present  at  the  preaching  of  the  Albigenses.  One  day 
when  he  was  in  a  church  during  mass  he  ordered  his 
court  fool  to  mimic  the  gestures  of  the  priest  at  the 
moment  when  the  latter  turned  toward  the  people  and 
chanted  the  Dominus  vobiscum.  Speaking  of  an  ill-clad 
and  frightfully  crippled  heretic,  he  said,  “I  would  rather 
be  that  man  than  be  named  king  or  emperor.” 

More  serious  facts  were  related.  A  heretic  of  Toulouse 
had  polluted  the  altar  in  a  church  and  committed  unclean 
sacrilege.  He  said  out  loud  that  when  the  priest  officiating 
at  the  mass  partakes  of  the  Host  his  body  absorbs  only  a 
demon.  The  abbot  of  Grandselve  asked  Raymond  VI  to 
punish  the  heretic  for  all  these  scandalous  acts.  The 
count  replied :  “I  would  never  prosecute  a  compatriot  for 
such  deeds.”  Pierre  des  Vaux  de  Cernai  thought  that  he 
was  in  a  position  to  declare  that  the  count  had  actually 
become  a  heretic.  In  his  military  expeditions  the  count 
took  with  him  Albigensian  bishops  dressed  in  lay  cos¬ 
tumes.  If  he  had  been  severely  wounded  he  would  have 
immediately  received  from  them  the  laying  on  of  hands. 

All  vices  were  freely  attributed  to  these  abettors  of 


454 


Southern  France 

heresy.  The  monk  of  Cernai  believed  Raymond  VI  was 
a  rascal  whose  immorality  did  not  hesitate  even  at  incest, 
and  he  poured  upon  him  a  stream  of  invectives :  “Limb 
of  the  devil,  son  of  perdition,  hardened  criminal,  ware¬ 
house  of  all  sins.”  These  Southerners  were  certainly  no 
saints.  Raymond,  like  the  others,  had  concubines  and 
bastards,  to  say  nothing  of  his  five  legitimate  and  suc¬ 
cessive  wives.  But  did  the  lords  in  the  North  lead  a 
more  edifying  life?  They  also  made  rude  war  on  the 
Church ;  only  when  stealing  its  temporal  property  they 
respected  its  religious  power,  its  traditions  and  its  dog¬ 
mas.  The  state  of  mind  of  the. barons  of  Languedoc  re¬ 
mained  an  insoluble  enigma  to  the  Catholic  multitude. 
They  were  profoundly  astonished  at  their  toleration,  at 
their  refusal  to  act  vigorously  against  the  sect,  and  at  their 
motley  following,  in  which  Jews,  Cathari,  Waldenses  and 
the  orthodox  elbowed  one  another.  They  thought  con¬ 
version  to  Catharism  was  the  only  possible  explanation 
of  such  extraordinary  conduct.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
promoters  of  the  crusade  against  the  Albigenses  made  a 
mistake  in  thinking  that  because  this  feudal  society 
patronized  the  heretic,  it  had  embraced  heresy. 

In  the  scene  at  Fanjeux,  all  present  took  part  in  the 
ceremonies  of  initiation  except  the  count  of  Foix  himself 
—a  significant  exception.  Fie  allowed  his  people  to  affil¬ 
iate  with  the  sect,  but  he  did  not  enter  it.  Raymond  VI 
always  denied  that  he  was  a  heretic  and  no  one  (we  may 
believe  Innocent  III)  has  ever  been  able  to  prove  that  he 
was  one.  He  loaded  the  religious  congregations  with 
presents ;  he  was  especially  friendly  toward  the  Hospital¬ 
ers  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem,  and  even  associated  himself 


455 


Medieval  Civilization 

with  their  order  in  1218,  declaring  “that  if  he  ever  entered 
religion  he  would  choose  no  habit  but  theirs.”  Authentic 
evidence  proves  that  he  had  made  his  daughter  Raimonde 
a  nun  in  the  convent  of  Lespinasse  and  that  even  when  he 
was  excommunicated,  he  remained  at  the  doors  of  the 
churches,  in  order  to  be  present  at  the  holy  ceremonies, 
although  afar  off.  If  he  met,  on  his  way,  a  priest  bearing 
the  eucharist  to  the  sick,  he  dismounted,  adored  the  Host, 
and  followed  the  priest.  When  the  first  Franciscans 
reached  Toulouse  he  gathered  them  together,  on  Holy 
Thursday,  in  the  house  of  one  of  his  friends,  served  them 
at  table  with  his  own  hands,  and  carried  his  respect  for 
Christian  tradition  so  far  that  he  washed  and  kissed  their 
feet. 

The  contradictory  actions  of  these  lords  of  the  South 
may  be  explained  by  their  hereditary  instincts,  their  in¬ 
difference,  their  eclecticism  and  their  anti-clerical  passion. 
Following  the  example  of  their  fathers  and  grand¬ 
fathers,  they  pillaged  and  robbed  the  property  of  the 
Church,  but  this  did  not  prevent  them,  any  more  than 
their  fathers  and  grandfathers,  from  enriching  convents, 
founding  chapels,  and  wearing  drugget  when  seriously 
ill  and  expecting  death.  Between  times,  according  to  cir¬ 
cumstances  and  their  own  interests,  they  listened  to  the 
preachers  of  heresy  and  aided  their  mission.  None  the 
less,  in  external  matters,  they  remained  attached  to  the 
religion  of  their  ancestors.  Even  if  they  no  longer  had 
the  faith,  they  always  practised  the  works,  and  this  was 
the  essential  thing  in  the  Middle  Ages.  Very  many  of 
these  so-called  heretics  kept  up  the  Catholic  observances 
until  the  last  day  of  their  life. 

456 


Southern  France 

Their  equivocal  attitude  seemed  only  the  more  danger¬ 
ous  to  those  who  saw  the  new  religion  gradually  winning 
the  whole  South.  Guillaume  de  Puylaurens  throws  part 
of  the  responsibility  for  this  situation  upon  the  careless¬ 
ness  of  the  sovereigns  of  Toulouse  who  had  suffered  the 
evil  to  spread  and  to  become  almost  irremediable.  But 
he  especially  incriminates  the  negligence  of  the  prelates 
of  the  country,  their  intentional  inertia  or  even  their  secret 
complicity.  Whether  they  felt  themselves  powerless  or 
whether  they  too  were  penetrated  by  ideas  repugnant  to 
religious  persecution,  the  fact  is  that  the  bishops  refused 
to  make  inquests  and  to  proscribe  their  diocesan  subjects. 
“The  shepherds  who  ought  to  watch  over  the  flock  have 
fallen  asleep,”  says  Puylaurens ;  “that  is  the  reason  why 
the  wolves  have  ravaged  everything.” 


457 


The  Intellectual  Movement  of  the 
Thirteenth  Century- 

Adapted  from  C.  V.  Langlois,  in  Lavisse  :  Histoire  de  France , 
Vol.  Ill,  Part  ii,  1901,  pp.  387-416. 

TWO  facts  are  dominant  in  the  history  of  the  intel¬ 
lectual  activity  of  the  thirteenth  century :  the  de¬ 
cadence  of  idealism  and  of  artificial  literature,  and  the 
development  of  the  scientific  spirit. 

In  the  schools  of  the  twelfth  century,  there  had  been 
a  renaissance  of  letters,  which  is  not  without  some 
analogy  to  the  later  Renaissance  which  was  more  cele¬ 
brated,  more  complete,  and  more  fruitful.  Most  of  the 
men  in  the  twelfth  century,  who  wrote  in  Latin,  were 
scholars,  humanists,  and  rhetoricians,  adorned  with  the 
spoils  of  antiquity;  even  those  who  treated  abstruse 
questions,  Abelard  and  Gilbert  de  la  Porree,  for  exam¬ 
ple,  wrote  with  due  attention  to  style ;  in  the  vernacular, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  chanson  and  the  “court”  romance 
flourished  in  the  twelfth  century.  All  of  this  courtly 
literature  was  worldly,  agreeable,  and  refined,  but  had 
neither  depth  nor  sincerity. 

A  hundred  years  after  St.  Bernard  and  Cretien  de 
Troyes  came  the  age  of  St.  Thomas  and  Jean  de  Meun, 
when  everything  was  changed.  It  is  difficult  to  imagine 

458 


The  Intellectual  Movement 

a  more  complete  contrast.  From  that  time,  among  the 
clergy  there  were  no  more  elegant  orators  or  poets,  that 
is  to  say,  makers  of  Latin  verses,  like  Gautier  de  Cha- 
tillon  or  Hildebert  de  Lavardin,  whose  works  are  imita¬ 
tions  so  perfectly  insipid  and  without  color  or  date  that 
modern  humanists,  by  mistake,  h^ive  attributed  some 
fragments  to  ancient  authors.  “If  you  look  for  a  poet 
among  them,”  says  Haureau,  “you  will  find  none.  The 
hexameter  had  passed  out  of  fashion,  as  well  as  the 
pentameter ;  little  rhythmical  pieces,  sometimes  pious 
and  sometimes  obscene,  make  up  the  whole  [clerical] 
poetry  of  that  day.”  Theologians  and  philosophers 
spoke  a  technical  jargon  that  the  logicians  of  the  pre¬ 
ceding  century  would  have  had  difficulty  in  understand¬ 
ing,  and  they  treated  problems  that  were  wholly  new. 
Moreover,  in  the  lay  world,  courtoisie  had  had  its  day. 
The  idealistic  conceptions  of  the  preceding  century  were 
no  longer  taken  seriously,  and  sometimes  were  derided. 
The  characteristic  works  of  this  age  are  pompous,  pe¬ 
dantic  poems  full  of  grossness  and  life. 

The  twelfth  century,  at  its  close,  had  seemed  to  de¬ 
spair  of  human  reason :  never  had  the  mystics,  who 
despised  science  and  scientific  curiosity,  been  more  num¬ 
erous  than  in  the  time  when  the  theological  school  of  the 
monastery  of  St.  Victor  of  Paris  was  in  its  glory.  The 
thirteenth  century,  on  the  contrary,  the  most  intellectual 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  had  a  passionate  confidence  in  rea¬ 
son  ;  it  attempted  to  know ;  it  wished  to  prove  everything. 

The  event  which  gave  the  initial  impulse  to  the 
philosophical  and  theological  evolution  of  the  thirteenth 

459 


Medieval  Civilization 

century  was  the  appearance  of  hitherto-unknown  works 
of  Aristotle,  and  commentaries  on  these  works,  which 
were  brought  from  Spain  about  1200:  the  Physics,  and 
the  Metaphysics,  and  almost  the  whole  body  of  Aristo¬ 
telian  learning. 

At  the  very  moment  when  the  new  Aristotle  and  his 
Moslem  commentators  were  introduced  at  Paris,  the 
philosophical-theological  system  which  was  reigning  in 
the  schools  was  Platonic  idealism  or  pseudo-Platonic,  on 
the  model  of  St.  Augustine.  Although  St.  Augustine 
had  been  almost  dazzled  by  Greek  metaphysics,  yet  he 
was  one  of  the  most  violent  contemners  of  reason:  he 
subordinated  the  True  to  the  Good,  the  Intelligence  to 
the  Will,  and  prostrated  human  thought  in  the  dust.  The 
disciples  of  this  somber  genius  continued  to  maintain  his 
fundamental  theses,  which  were  satisfactory  to  spirits  in¬ 
clined  to  obedience,  to  religious  and  mystical  souls,  to 
born  defenders  of  orthodoxy,  and  to  rhetoricians.  For 
these  reasons,  Augustinianism  has  never  ceased  to  have 
numerous  partisans.  All-powerful  in  the  twelfth  century, 
it  was  taught  in  the  thirteenth  century  by  many  doctors. 
However  great  the  differences  between  them,  and  al¬ 
though  they  all  had  undergone,  to  a  greater  or  lesser  de¬ 
gree,  in  spite  of  themselves,  the  influence  of  Aristotle  or 
of  the  Aristotelian  terminology,  most  of  the  secular  and 
Franciscan  theologians  of  the  thirteenth  century,— and 
even  some  celebrated  masters  among  the  Dominicans, — 
were  Augustinians. 

The  rationalistic  philosophy  of  Aristotle  was  received 
with  distrust  by  theologians  who  followed  the  Augus- 
tinian  tradition,  because  they  judged  it  dangerous;  but 

460 


The  Intellectual  Movement 

most  scholars  fell  upon  this  new  food  with  an  avidity 
which  is  comparable  only  to  the  intoxication  of  the  first 
humanists  in  the  presence  of  the  resuscitated  Antiquity. 
Such  a  vigorous  fermentation  immediately  set  in  that  the 
ecclesiastical  authorities  attempted  to  stop  it,  in  1210  and 
1215  :  “The  books  of  Aristotle  on  metaphysics  and  natural 
philosophy  are  not  to  be  read.”  Nevertheless,  prohibition 
pure  and  simple  could  not  be  maintained.  April  13,  1231, 
Pope  Gregory  IX  gave  absolution  to  the  masters  and 
students  who  had  been  excommunicated  for  having  dis¬ 
obeyed  orders  by  reading  or  interpreting  Aristotle ;  in 
principle,  he  confirmed  the  prohibitive  decrees  of  1210 
and  1215,  but  “provisionally,  until  the  books  of  the 
Philosopher  had  been  examined  and  expurgated.”  The 
task  of  expurgation — “cutting  out  the  erroneous,  doing 
away  with  the  suspected”— was  confided  by  Gregory  XI 
to  three  lay  masters  at  Paris.  As  such  an  enterprise  was, 
naturally,  chimerical,  the  three  masters  gave  it  up.  There 
is  no  evidence  that  they  ever  even  attempted  it.  The 
absolute  prohibitions  of  1210  and  1215  were  never  re¬ 
moved,  but  they  were  forgotten.  An  official  decree  of 
the  faculty  of  arts  in  the  University  of  Paris,  March  19, 
1255,  mentions,  among  the  books  which  the  professors  in 
arts  ought  to  “read”  publicly,  the  Physics  and  Meta¬ 
physics  and  other  treatises  that  were  written  by  Aristotle 
or  attributed  to  him.  The  Philosopher  accordingly  re¬ 
mained  in  full  possession  of  the  freedom  of  the  schools, 
and  Aristotelianism  became,  in  spite  of  the  Augustinian 
party,  the  prevailing  mode  of  thought. 

Now,  in  all  the  religious  circles  where  the  Aristotelian 
philosophy  was  known  and  tolerated  in  the  Middle  Ages, 

461 


Medieval  Civilization 

whether  Arabic,  Jewish,  or  Latin,  the  same  phenomena 
occurred.  Among  the  admirers  of  Aristotle,  there  were 
two  parties :  one,  filled  with  respect  for  dogma  and  also 
with  veneration  for  the  Philosopher,  attempted  to  re¬ 
concile  the  two  by  subtleties  of  interpretation ;  the  other, 
after  having  taken  the  precaution,  which  was  indispen¬ 
sable,  and  perhaps  ironical,  of  declaring  that  what  is 
true  according  to  the  faith  is  not  always  true  according 
to  reason,  and  that,  in  case  of  any  contradiction,  the  solu¬ 
tion  according  to  the  faith  ought  to  be  preferred,  very 
freely  drew  the  most  extreme  conclusions  from  the  doc¬ 
trine  of  the  Master. 

A  Franciscan,  Alexander  de  Hales,  apparently  was  the 
first  to  bring  within  the  bounds  of  orthodoxy  this  Aris¬ 
totle  whom  ecclesiastical  authority  had  not  succeeded  in 
banishing  or  restricting.  But  two  disciples  of  St.  Domi¬ 
nic,  Albert  the  Great  and  Thomas  Aquinas,  are  entitled 
to  the  glory  of  having  accomplished  the  Christianization 
of  Aristotelianism.  Albert  “conceived  and  carried  out 
the  plan  of  adapting  Aristotle  to  the  usage  of  the  Latins 
.  .  .  and  also  of  correcting  him,  so  that  he  might  enter 
into  the  thought  of  the  Church.”  His  disciple,  Thomas 
Aquinas,  with  greater  care,  and  under  the  auspices  of  the 
Holy  See,  undertook  the  task  a  second  time,  substituting 
the  most  exact  method  of  literal  exegesis  for  that  of 
paraphrase,  in  order  to  accomplish  “the  fundamental 
problem  of  the  interpretation  of  Aristotle  and  the  correc¬ 
tion  of  his  errors.”  The  Dominican  order  was  officially 
designated  by  the  Holy  See,  in  the  thirteenth  century,  to 
correct  the  text  of  the  Bible  (Hugues  de  Saint-Cher)  and 
to  revise  the  Corpus  juris  canonici  (Raymond  de  Pena- 

462 


The  Intellectual  Movement 

fort)— the  two  “texts”  in  the  teaching  of  theology  and 
law.  In  addition,  the  order  accomplished  a  similar,  but 
still  more  important,  task :  the  preparation  of  the  phil¬ 
osophical  encyclopedia  of  Aristotelian  thought  for  the 
use  of  the  schools  in  general.  In  this  way,  the  Domin¬ 
icans  played,  in  the  thirteenth  century,  a  role  very  anal¬ 
ogous  to  that  played  by  the  Company  of  Jesus  three 
hundred  years  later.  They  turned  Aristotelian  ration¬ 
alism  to  the  profit  of  orthodoxy,  just  as  the  Jesuits, 
in  the  interests  of  the  Church,  confiscated  triumphant 
humanism. 

The  work  of  Albert  and  Thomas,  which  was  a  colossal 
effort  and  demanded  rare  ability,  especially  in  Thomas, 
was  very  much  valued  by  most  of  their  contemporaries. 
Godefroy  de  Fontaines  says  that  the  new  Dominican 
philosophy  is  the  “salt  of  the  earth”;  the  faculty  of  arts 
at  Paris  compared  it,  in  1274,  to  the  light  of  the  sun.  But 
it  was  also  attacked  very  vigorously,  on  one  wing,  by 
Augustinians  who  were  absolutely  opposed  to  Aristote- 
lianism,  such  as,  for  example,  William  of  St.  Amour  and 
John  Peckham ;  on  the  other  wing,  by  the  irreconcilable 
Aristotelians  and  by  a  small  group  of  thinkers,  who  “had 
despaired  of  Aristotle,”  after  having  conscientiously  at¬ 
tempted  to  profit  by  his  teaching.  It  is  only  in  our  own 
day  that  men  have  ventured  to  say  that  “the  Summa 
Theologiae  embraces  all  the  science  and  all  the  phil¬ 
osophy”  of  the  thirteenth  century,  and  some  have  even 
said  “of  the  Middle  Ages,”  and  that  the  encyclopedic 
philosophy  of  St.  Thomas,  so  clear  and  so  prudent  ( pru - 
dentissime) ,  qualities  which  have  made  its  extraordinary 
fortune,  is  classic  in  the  Church. 

463 


Medieval  Civilization 

Nothing  was  more  difficult  than  to  reconcile  Aristotle 
with  dogma,  as  Avicenna  did  among  the  Mussulmans  and 
Albert  the  Great  and  Thomas  Aquinas  among  the  Chris¬ 
tians,  for  the  Augustinians  were  not  wrong  in  stating 
that  the  philosophy  of  Aristotle  is  incompatible  with  the 
necessary  postulates  of  a  revealed  religion.  The  writ¬ 
ings  of  the  Philosopher  imply,  even  if  they  do  not 
formally  state,  that  there  is  no  creator,  no  first  man,  no 
anthropomorphic  God,  no  providence,  no  survival  of  in¬ 
dividual  souls  after  death.  In  fact,  Avicenna  and  Thomas 
Aquinas,  out  of  profound  respect  for  the  Master,  have,  as 
far  as  possible,  attenuated,  excused,  distorted,  or  char¬ 
itably  passed  over  in  silence,  his  malodorous  opinions. 
Most  frequently  they  denied  that  he  intended  to  say 
what  he  seemed  to  say  ;  but  in  the  presence  of  too-manifest 
errors,  they  did  not  fail  promptly  to  condemn  him.  St. 
Thomas  never  hesitated  between  Aristotle  and  “sound 
philosophy,”  that  is,  between  Aristotle  and  the  Faith : 
Amicus  Aristoteles,  sed  magis  arnica  Fides. 

Among  the  Arabs,  this  had  not  been  the  attitude  of 
Averroes.  This  commentator  never  tired  of  repeating 
that  he  proposed  to  “state  the  opinion  of  the  Philosopher,” 
without  being  responsible  for  it.  His  rule  in  explanation 
of  obscure  texts  and  the  determination  of  doubtful  points 
was  to  follow  the  general  spirit  of  the  Master’s  teaching. 
Servile,  but  faithful,  interpreters,  the  Averroists  emphas¬ 
ized,  in  place  of  concealing,  the  contradictions  which  ex¬ 
ist  between  Aristotelianism  and  theological  “truths;”  and 
some  appeared  to  enjoy  this  game  under  the  protection 
of  the  authority  of  the  great  man.  It  is  natural  that 
Averroism— that  is,  Aristotelianism  carried  to  its  ex- 

464 


The  Intellectual  Movement 

treme  conclusions— had  its  disciples  at  Paris,  as  well  as  in 
Mussulman  Spain  and  in  the  synagogues  of  Languedoc : 
there  were  some  (rom  the  first  years  of  the  second  half 
of  the  thirteenth  century,  if  not  earlier. 

The  protagonist  of  the  sect,  in  the  schools  of  Paris, 
was  a  certain  Siger  de  Brabant.  He  first  appears  in 
1266,  as  the  cause  of  the  disorders  which  broke  out  that 
year  among  the  four  “nations”  of  the  faculty  of  arts.  In 
1270,  he  wrote  a  manifesto,  the  De  anima  intellectiva,  to 
which  Thomas  Aquinas  replied ;  and  the  bishop  of  Paris 
condemned  the  most  striking  of  the  Averroistic  proposi¬ 
tions.  For  three  years  after  December,  1271,  the  faculty 
of  arts  was  divided  into  two  factions,  each  of  which 
elected  its  rector.  One  of  these  two  factions,  the  smaller 
numerically,  is  designated  as  the  “faction  of  Siger.”  It 
was  composed,  doubtless,  in  great  part  of  the  masters  and 
students  who  professed  Averroism.  In  1275,  the  cardinal 
of  St.  Cecilia  (later  Pope  Martin  IV)  put  an  end  to  this 
schism  by  a  ruling  which  contains  the  most  direct  and 
vigorous  threats  against  the  “satellites  of  Satan,  who 
have,  for  a  long  time,  been  sowing  discord  in  the  Studium 
of  Paris.”  Two  years  later,  the  bishop  of  Paris,  Etienne 
Tempier,  ex-chancellor  of  the  University,  excommuni¬ 
cated  the  authors  of  two  hundred  and  nineteen  proposi¬ 
tions  taught  in  the  faculty  of  arts.  Etienne  Tempier,  in 
this  instance,  carried  out  the  wishes  of  the  lay  doctors 
of  the  faculty  of  theology,  who  had  Augustinian  tenden¬ 
cies.  In  his  condemnatory  decree  of  March  7,  1277,  he 
considers  not  merely  the  characteristic  theses  of  pure 
Averroism,  but,  also,  some  theses  of  the  moderate  Aristo- 
telianism  of  the  Dominican  school,  taught  by  Thomas 

465 


Medieval  Civilization 

Aquinas.  Lay  theologians  would  have  been  well  pleased 
to  crush  all  Aristotelianism  under  the  same  condemna¬ 
tion  ;  but  this  partisan  attempt  failed,  because  of  the 
activity  of  the  brethren  of  Thomas  (who  had  died  in 
1274)  and  the  intervention  of  Rome.  The  crisis  of  1277 
was  disastrous  to  the  Averroists  alone. 

The  influence  of  Aristotle  manifested  itself,  at  that  time, 
in  two  ways :  first,  Aristotelian  metaphysics  led  the  west¬ 
ern  philosophers  astray,  as  it  had  already  done  the  Syri¬ 
ans,  the  Jews,  and  the  Arabs,  by  inviting  them  to  endless 
controversies  over  questions  of  existence,  quality,  and 
form,  out  of  which  nothing  has  ever  come ;  secondly, 
the  Aristotelian  encyclopedia  rendered  great  pedagogi¬ 
cal  services.  Not  only  is  it  full  of  instruction,  true  and 
false,  upon  the  things  of  this  universe,  and  historical 
facts  which  are  very  well  fitted  to  awaken  curiosity,  but 
it  is  arranged  in  conformity  with  rigorous  logic,  and  the 
methods  of  argumentation  of  the  Philosopher  are  of  such 
a  nature  that  they  furnish  the  instrument,  or  the  illusion, 
of  a  scientific  method.  In  short,  Aristotle  has  inculcated 
or  developed  not  only  the  taste  for  abstract  speculation, 
but  also  the  desire  to  learn— that  lust  for  knowledge 
which  St.  Augustine  placed  among  the  most  dangerous 
of  the  lusts — and  the  habit  of  reasoning.  Albert  the 
Great,  had  the  temperament  and  the  desires  of  the 
scholar.  Thomas  Aquinas,  Duns  Scotus,  William  of 
Ockham,  and  their  rivals,  were,  if  not  rationalists,  at 
least  consummate  reasoners  and  learned  men,  after  their 
fashion.  Even  the  most  exalted  mystics,  in  those  days, 
paid  tribute,  as  far  as  they  could,  to  the  scientific  method. 

466 


The  Intellectual  Movement 

Raymond  Lull,  of  Majorca,  who  wandered  for  thirty 
years  through  all  the  lands  bordering  on  the  Mediter¬ 
ranean,  and  often  displayed  at  Paris  his  luxuriant  beard, 
his  poetic  effusions,  and  the  extraordinary  fancies  of  a 
partially  deranged  intellect,  invented  a  scientific  mech¬ 
anism  for  solving  all  problems  and  reaching  the  truth 
in  everything:  an  Ars  major,  which  ought  to  serve  for 
ideas  as  the  table  of  Pythagoras  for  numbers. 

The  preachers  who  were  contemporaries  of  St.  Louis 
and  of  Philip  the  Fair  did  not  at  all  resemble  those  of 
the  preceding  age,  who  were  rhetorical  gourmands.  In 
the  thirteenth  century,  preachers,  who  addressed  audi¬ 
ences  of  the  clergy  and  consequently  wrote  or  spoke  in 
Latin,  generally  followed  the  “scholastic”  method,  that 
is,  they  attempted  to  demonstrate  laboriously,  after  the 
manner  of  the  schools,  points  in  morals  or  doctrine,  by 
bringing  together  a  great  number  of  authorities  and 
distinctions.  Others,  who  spoke  in  the  vernacular  before 
lay  audiences — although  nearly  all  of  their  sermons 
which  have  been  preserved  are  in  Latin  or  Latin  mixed 
with  French — abandoned  the  lofty  style  and  the  ingen¬ 
ious  allegories  which  formerly  were  the  fashion.  “The 
sharpened  sword  of  argumentation,”  says  the  cardinal 
Jacques  de  Vitry,  “has  no  power  over  the  laity ;  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  Scriptures,  without  which  one  cannot 
take  a  step,  it  is  necessary  to  add  refreshing,  and  some¬ 
times  edifying,  stories.” 

An  experienced  preacher,  according  to  the  ideal  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  ought  to  have  in  reserve  a  store  of 
anecdotes  and  experiences,  a  bric-a-brac  of  instructive 

467 


Medieval  Civilization 

teaching,  of  adages,  and  of  repartee.  The  popular  ora¬ 
tor  in  the  time  of  St.  Louis  knew  his  flock ;  he  knew  that, 
if  he  tired  them,  he  would  see  them  “leaving  for  the 
shows  of  the  jongleurs.”  Accordingly  he  sacrificed  him¬ 
self,  but  voluntarily,  for  he  was  the  first  to  be  amused 
at  his  own  stories.  Most  of  the  itinerant  preachers, 
whether  regular  or  secular,  were  from  the  ranks  of  the 
people,  and  they  shared  the  popular  tastes ;  they  also 
shared  the  popular  passions,  and  that  is  why  their  ser¬ 
mons  are  often  so  astonishingly  free .  “It  is  our  duty,” 
they  said,  “to  bark  in  the  house  of  the  Lord.”  They 
“barked,”  in  fact,  very  willingly,  especially  against  the 
rich,  the  powerful,  and  the  dignitaries  of  all  the  hier¬ 
archies.  Without  caring  at  all,  they  provoked  the  hatred 
of  the  aristocrats,  of  the  office-holders,  and  of  the  clergy 
who  had  prebends  and  did  nothing;  and  they  even  vio¬ 
lated  the  proprieties.  They  also  had  a  confused  idea  of 
a  social  justice  which  did  not  exist.  “The  rulers  in  our 
time,”  said  one  of  them,  “are  like  blind  men  who  have 
dogs  to  lead  them.  The  dogs  are  called  counselors, 
bailiffs,  provosts,  etc.,  and  they  are,  strictly  speaking, 
dogs  who  always  wag  their  tails  and  fawn  upon  their 
masters,  and  chase  strangers,  especially  people  of  hum¬ 
ble  rank  and  the  good,  to  bite  and  tear  them.”  “It  is  the 
fashion,”  said  another,  “to  have  a  festival  when  a  son  is 
born  to  the  king.  I  have  seen  that  in  France.  Much 
more  should  there  be  feasting  on  Christmas  day  over  the 
birth  of  the  Son  of  the  King  of  Paradise.  Princes  come 
into  the  world,  not  to  give  us  anything,  but,  on  the  con¬ 
trary,  to  take  our  goods  from  us,  while  the  Son  of  the 
Celestial  King  came  to  pay  our  debts.”  “All  riches,” 

468 


The  Intellectual  Movement 

said  a  third,  who  was  a  bishop,  “come  from  theft.  I 
consider  the  saying  entirely  true  that  every  rich  man  is 
a  thief  or  the  heir  of  a  thief.”  An  anonymous  writer 
even  ventured  to  censure  God  himself :  “A  jongleur, 
summoned  by  a  priest  to  make  his  will,  said :  ‘I  have  two 
horses;  I  give  one  of  them  to  the  king  and  the  other  to 
the  bishop;  as  for  my  clothes,  they  shall  be  given  to  the 
barons  and  other  rich  men.’  ‘But,’  cried  the  priest,  ‘and 
the  poor?’  ‘Do  you  not  preach  to  us  every  day,’  replied 
the  jongleur,  ‘that  we  should  imitate  God?  I  imitate 
Him,  for  He  gives  everything  to  the  rich,  and  nothing 
to  the  poor.’  ” 

The  paucity  of  details  relative  to  the  artists  of  the  thir¬ 
teenth  century  renders  invaluable  the  “album”  of  Villard 
de  Honnecourt,  a  book  of  sketches  and  mementoes,  which 
has  been  preserved  by  chance.  This  document  of  the  age 
of  Louis  IX  is  unique  in  its  class.  It  is  a  small  volume  of 
thirty-three  sheets  of  stitched  parchment  and  is  covered 
with  sketches  and  explanatory  notes  in  the  dialect  of 
Picardy.  On  the  first  page  there  is  a  note :  “Villard  de 
Honnecourt  salutes  you,  and  asks  all  those  who  work  at 
the  different  trades  contained  in  this  book  to  pray  for 
him,  for  in  this  book  can  be  found  great  aid  and  instruc¬ 
tion  in  the  fundamental  principles  of  masonry  and  car¬ 
pentry.  You  will  also  find  in  it  the  method  of  draughting, 
as  commanded  and  taught  by  geometry.” 

Honnecourt  is  a  village  on  the  banks  of  the  Scheldt,  in 
the  arrondissement  of  Cambrav,  where  there  was,  in  the 
thirteenth  century,  a  priory  of  the  order  of  Cluny.  Six 
kilometers  away,  in  the  days  when  Villard  was  young, 

469 


Medieval  Civilization 

the  great  Cistercian  abbey  of  Vaucelles  was  finished; 
probably  the  author  of  the  album  got  his  education  and 
did  his  first  work  in  the  work-shops  of  Vaucelles  (closed 
in  1235).  Then  he  traveled.  “I  have  been  in  very  many 
countries,”  said  he.  At  Laon,  he  sketched  one  of  the 
towers  of  the  cathedral— “the  most  beautiful  tower  in 
the  world,”  in  his  opinion.  At  Reims,  he  studied  the 
cathedral  which  was  in  process  of  construction.  In  his 
memorandum,  he  has  recorded  the  plan  of  St.  Ltienne  de 
Meaux,  the  design  of  the  great  western  rose  window  of 
Notre-Dame  de  Chartres,  and  the  details  of  the  cathedral 
at  Lausanne.  When  he  traveled  through  Lausanne,  he 
was  going  to  Hungary.  In  Hungary,  he  saw,  as  he  says, 
certain  church  pavements,  of  which  he  reproduced  the 
plans.  The  Cistercian  monks  of  Hungary,  who  probably 
came  from  Cambresis  and  Artois,  and  possibly  from  Vau¬ 
celles,  were  at  that  time  building  a  great  number  of 
abbeys.  It  is  almost  certain  that  he  was  sent  to  these 
distant  lands  to  enter  the  service  of  the  Cistercians.  How¬ 
ever  that  may  be,  some  of  the  numerous  Cistercian  edi¬ 
fices  which  were  built  in  Hungary  between  1235  and 
1250  were  probably  his  work.  It  would  be  interesting,  in 
the  ruins  that  remain,  to  seek  for  his  builder’s  mark. 
This  builder’s  mark  is  seen  in  the  collegiate  church  of 
St.  Quentin  (Aisne),  which  was  consecrated  in  1257.  In 
fact,  the  interior  and  exterior  elevations  of  the  choir  of 
St.  Quentin  are  modeled  upon  those  of  the  cathedral  of 
Reims,  noted  in  the  album ;  the  Hungarian  motive  of  the 
album  is  found  in  the  pavement  of  the  narthex  of  St. 
Quentin ;  the  plan  of  one  of  the  chapels  of  St.  Quentin 
is  like  that  of  the  chapels  of  Vaucelles;  and  the  incorrect 


470 


The  Intellectual  Movement 

drawing  of  the  rose  window  at  Chartres,  which  is  in  the 
album,  is  reproduced  in  that  chapel.  The  methods  of 
work  of  the  architect  and  decorator  can  be  grasped  here: 
he  combined  the  details  of  various  edifices  which  had 
pleased  him.  This  method  was  very  common  :  hence  the 
extraordinary  likenesses  which  are  noted  now  among 
buildings  which  are  sometimes  very  distant  from  one  an¬ 
other.  Villard  was  not  content,  however,  with  imitation. 
He  had  thought  out,  in  collaboration  with  an  associate 
named  Pierre  de  Corbie,  the  plan  for  a  church,  where 
square  chapels  alternated  with  apsidial  around  the  deam¬ 
bulatory.  This  arrangement,  which  was  very  uncommon, 
has  been  carried  out  in  the  cathedral  at  Toledo,  of  which 
the  architect,  who  died  in  1290,  is  designated  by  the  name 
of  “Master  Peter.”  It  is  not  impossible  that  this  archi¬ 
tect  at  Toledo  was  the  friend  of  Villard  de  Honnecourt. 

Although  we  know  that  he  built  several  great  edifices, 
Villard  de  Honnecourt  was  not  an  artist  of  the  first  rank. 
The  protege  of  the  monks  of  Vaucelles  has  no  right  to 
be  placed  by  the  side  of  the  masters  at  Paris,  Amiens, 
Reims,  etc.,  or  of  those  who  worked  for  the  kings, 
princes,  and  bishops  of  northern  France.  He  had,  as  it 
were,  a  provincial  talent.  His  style,  which  is  a  composite 
of  the  styles  of  the  Ile-de-France,  of  Champagne,  and  of 
the  Rhineland,  was  not  pure.  He  drew  rather  badly ;  his 
figures  are  commonplace,  laboriously  and  heavily  draped, 
in  the  German  fashion.  His  “vademecum”  can  give  no 
adequate  idea  of  the  skill  of  the  great  masters ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  he  furnishes  sufficiently  precise  notions  of 
the  general  culture  of  an  architect  in  the  thirteenth  cen¬ 
tury.  Villard  de  Honnecourt  was  an  educated  man;  he 


47i 


Medieval  Civilization 

knew  Latin,  but  not  at  all  well ;  he  was  interested  in  the 
tales  which  made  up,  in  his  day,  zoological  science ;  he 
indicates  the  method  of  making  an  herbarium,  and  he  sets 
down  some  recipes  for  a  depilatory,  and  some  cures  for 
wounds  so  common  in  the  work-shops.  He  was  an  engi¬ 
neer  :  the  album  contains  the  plans  of  several  machines : 
a  saw-mill  run  by  water,  a  screw-jack,  and  a  gin;  and  the 
author  flattered  himself  that  he  had  discovered  perpetual 
motion,  by  suspending  movable  weights  on  the  circum¬ 
ference  of  a  wheel.  Several  elementary  problems  of  prac¬ 
tical  geometry  are  set  and  solved  in  the  album :  finding 
the  center  of  a  circle ;  determining  the  circumference  of 
an  imbedded  column ;  measuring  the  width  of  a  river 
without  crossing  it.  As  for  cutting  stones  and  cal¬ 
culating  the  resistance  of  materials,  we  do  not  need  the 
statements  of  Villard  in  order  to  know  that  the  builders 
of  the  Middle  Ages  were  very  expert  in  such  matters. 
But  it  is  not  superfluous  to  state  that  questions  of  car¬ 
pentry  and  joinery  occupied  the  author  of  the  album  just 
as  much  as  questions  of  masonry.  He  speaks  of  the 
method  of  setting  up  a  bridge,  props,  and  a  roof.  Then, 
he  teaches  the  method  of  designing  for  ornamentation, 
and  for  the  human  figure  as  used  by  sculptors.  For  por¬ 
traying  the  figure,  “the  procedure,”  says  M.  J.  Quicherat, 
“consisted  in  reducing  attitudes  to  simple  lines.  .  .  .  Thus 
the  sculptors  acquired  the  art  of  reproducing  the  various 
attitudes  by  remembering  certain  conventional  symbols, 
.  .  .  and  the  positions  which  his  method  would  reproduce, 
and  the  routine,  indicated  in  his  album,  are  exactly  those 
which  the  contemporary  sculptors  and  miniaturists  fol- 


472 


The  Intellectual  Movement 

lowed  with  marked  predilection.  .  .  In  a  word,  Vil- 
lard  de  Honnecourt  was  well  versed  in  the  scientific  and 
artistic  knowledge  of  his  age.  The  great  masters  of  the 
thirteenth  century  were,  like  him,  architects,  sculptors, 
decorators,  geometricians,  and  military  and  civil  en¬ 
gineers. 


473 


The  Antecedents  of  the  Renaissance 


Adapted  from  E.  Gebhart:  La  renaissance  italienne  et  la  phi¬ 
losophic  de  I'histoire,  1887,  pp.  6-27. 

THE  Middle  Ages,  which  were  so  frequently  dis¬ 
turbed  by  violent  explosions  of  individual  passion, 
made  a  remarkable  effort  to  discipline  the  souls  of  men. 
From  Carolingian  times  onward,  a  few  exalted  notions, 
a  few  mighty  institutions,  the  prestige  of  certain  tradi¬ 
tions  and  the  mystical  ascendency  of  authority,  deter¬ 
mined  the  organization  of  society  and  regulated  the 
interests  and  consciences  of  men.  The  idea  of  Christen¬ 
dom  was  the  first  and  most  general  of  these  notions ; 
next  came  the  theory,  which  was  both  religious  and 
political,  of  the  empire  and  the  papacy ;  then  the  feudal 
regime,  which  gathered  the  weak  around  the  strong  and 
bound  them  together  by  the  oath  of  fidelity  and  the  duty 
of  protection,  and  thus  founded  the  social  hierarchy ; 
then  the  communes,  which  established  the  independence 
of  the  cities  organized  as  corporations.  In  the  bosom  of 
the  Church  monasticism  united  the  purest  of  the  Chris¬ 
tians  under  the  sway  of  a  more  austere  law  of  renunci¬ 
ation  and  obedience.  Finally  scholasticism  placed 
knowledge  under  the  tutelage  of  theology,  and  caused 
thinkers,  even  the  most  high-spirited,  to  join  in  a  common 
work  of  dialectics.  In  all  this,  the  medieval  era  displayed 

474 


The  Antecedents  of  the  Renaissance 

its  profound  idealism,  its  feeling  of  God’s  rights  over 
humanity,  its  pity  for  the  isolated  man,  lost  in  his  feeble¬ 
ness,  and  the  anguish  which  it  had  learned  from  the 
dreams  of  solitary  souls.  In  these  stiff  moulds  of  social 
or  religious  life,  and  in  the  restricted  area  of  the  school, 
supervised  by  the  Church,  the  reason  of  the  individual 
and  the  will  of  the  individual  were  imprisoned.  In 
whatsoever  direction  he  turned,  he  was  confronted  by  a 
master :  the  pope,  the  emperor,  the  count,  the  bishop,  the 
text  of  the  holy  books,  or  the  charter  of  his  commune. 
And  he  felt  his  weakness  all  the  more  since  he  saw, 
under  these  visible  forms  of  authority,  the  power  of 
God.  God  was  the  universal  suzerain.  The  ideal  seat 
of  His  authority  was  Rome,  upon  the  tomb  of  the  apos¬ 
tles,  in  the  holy  city  toward  which  Western  Europe 
gravitated.  Thence  issued  the  commands  of  the  two 
infallible  vicars  of  God :  the  pope,  whose  rights  were 
derived  from  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  emperor,  the  de¬ 
scendant  of  Caesar.  Every  case  of  political  disorder 
was  consequently  a  criminal  attempt  against  the  peace 
of  Christendom :  “Remember  God  and  your  Christian¬ 
ity,”  wrote  Charles  the  Bald  to  the  rebellious  barons  of 
Aquitaine.  Later,  even  when  the  empire  represented 
less  grandly  the  notion  of  Christendom,  the  primacy  of 
God  still  dominated  society.  The  kings,  the  counts  and 
the  bishops  still  invariably  issued  their  decrees  in  the 
name  of  the  Holy  Trinity.  But  in  the  eyes  of  the  Mid¬ 
dle  Ages  the  perfect  community  was  monasticism,  which 
keeps  man  in  perpetual  contemplation  of  things  divine. 
“Let  the  monk,”  wrote  Arnulf  of  Beauvais  in  the 
eleventh  century,  “be  like  Melchisedech,  without  father 


475 


Medieval  Civilization 

or  mother  or  kinsmen.  Let  him  not  speak  of  father  or 
mother  upon  this  earth.  Let  him  regard  himself  as 
alone,  and  God  as  his  father.  Amen.” 

It  is  manifest  that  the  peculiar  trait  of  the  Middle 
Ages  was  the  absolute  submission  of  the  individual  con¬ 
science  to  an  Inflexible  discipline.  The  individual  dis¬ 
appeared  in  the  political  edifice  which  the  Church  and 
the  doctrine  of  the  world-monarchy  had  erected  for  the 
peace  of  the  world  and  the  exaltation  of  the  kingdom  of 
God.  He  disappeared  in  the  feudal  polity,  where  the 
suzerain  was  the  vassal  of  a  greater  lord  and  the  subject 
was  a  serf,  bound  in  his  person  to  the  land  of  his  mas¬ 
ter.  The  collective  work  of  the  crusades  was  accom¬ 
plished,  most  fittingly,  in  the  times  when  the  interests  of 
individual  men  and  of  the  greatest  of  kingdoms  were 
effaced  before  the  superior  interests  of  Christendom. 
The  social  revolution  of  the  cities  was  also  a  collective 
work  in  which  the  individual  accepted  the  yoke,  often 
the  very  heavy  yoke,  of  the  communal  law.  In  France 
these  little  republics  were  quickly  absorbed  by  the  mon¬ 
archy.  In  Italy  they  destroyed  one  another  and  from 
their  ruins  arose  the  tyranny.  However,  the  tyranny  of 
the  fourteenth  century  was  one  of  the  first  signs  of  the 
Renaissance.  Scholasticism  lasted  longer  than  the  uni¬ 
versal  empire,  feudalism  or  the  communes ;  and  it  may 
well  be  that,  in  the  countries  where  it  was  in  the  ascen¬ 
dant,  it  left  the  strongest  impress  upon  the  minds  of 
men.  Originally  it  had  been,  in  a  sense,  a  movement 
toward  liberty,  exhibiting  the  first  opposition  of  the 
spirit  of  criticism  to  authority.  But  it  was  doomed  to 
fail  from  the  very  start,  by  the  extravagance  of  its 

476 


The  Antecedents  of  the  Renaissance 

method.  It  believed  that  interpretation  is  the  founda¬ 
tion  of  philosophy,  that  the  art  of  reasoning  is  know¬ 
ledge  itself,  and  that  a  regular  syllogism  is  the  sole 
instrument  of  certitude.  Logic  was  to  it  the  whole  of 
philosophy.  And,  as  it  had  made  up  its  mind  as  to  the 
proper  method,  so  it  determined  the  problems  which  it 
judged  best  fitted  for  the  play  of  that  method.  It  de¬ 
clared  Aristotle  the  master  par  excellence,  and  forced 
the  whole  series  of  the  experimental  sciences  to  pass 
under  the  yoke  of  the  false  Aristotelianism  of  the  Arabs. 
Scholasticism  was  thus  condemned  to  the  deadly  regimen 
of  abstraction.  The  Church,  which  was  always  uneasy 
about  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  unceasingly  brought 
scholasticism  back  to  the  idealism  of  Scotus  Erigena 
and  William  of  Champeaux.  The  greatest  doctors— 
Abelard,  Peter  Lombard,  and  Albert  the  Great— were 
powerless  to  restore  to  scholasticism  the  sense  of  reality 
and  of  life,  the  art  of  analysis,  and  the  freedom  of  ex¬ 
perience.  At  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century 
Ockham  demonstrated  the  foolishness  of  the  Gothic 
wisdom,  and  by  a  last  evolution  recalled  the  doctrine  to 
the  point  where  Abelard  had  placed  it— to  the  simple 
notion  that  ideas  are  not  beings.  Scholasticism  had  died, 
but  scholastic  routine  and  the  superstitious  worship  of 
the  syllogism,  sheltered  by  the  University  of  Paris  as  in 
a  fortress,  lasted  until  the  time  when  the  France  of 
Rabelais  and  of  Ramus  welcomed  the  Platonic  tradi¬ 
tions  of  Florence  and  the  rationalism  of  Italy. 

The  concert  of  three  countries — Italy,  Germany  and 
North  and  South  France— formed  the  civilization  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  All  three  accepted  the  feudal  regime. 

477 


Medieval  Civilization 

Italy  created  the  spiritual  primacy  of  the  Holy  See,  and 
Germany  the  supreme  suzerainty  of  the  empire.  Italy 
and  France  founded  communes.  Scholasticism  was 
peculiarly  a  product  of  France.  All  the  nations  sent 
their  masters  and  scholars  to  Paris  for  instruction. 
Generally  speaking,  one  might  say  that  in  these  three 
countries  every  effort  to  enlarge  or  break  the  rigid 
bonds  of  the  Middle  Ages  was  marked  by  the  most 
severe  crises.  Let  a  doctor;  Abelard,  attempt  to  base 
knowledge  upon  reason ;  let  a  province,  Languedoc, 
attempt  to  break  away  from  Christianity ;  let  a  pope, 
Gregory  VII,  wish  to  free  his  Church  from  the  grip  of 
the  empire;  let  an  emperor,  Frederick  II,  assault  the 
political  activity  of  the  Church ;  let  a  tribune,  Arnold  of 
Brescia,  endeavor  to  reduce  the  pope,  in  Rome,  to  the 
mere  position  of  first  of  the  bishops ; — in  each  case  a 
terrible  explosion  immediately  resulted.  Whosoever 
dared  to  touch  any  part  of  the  sacred  edifice  of  medieval 
authority  was  a  brigand,  an  apostate,  a  heretic,  a  type  of 
Anti-Christ.  Almost  without  exception  it  was  a  church 
council  which  launched  the  thunderbolt  that  struck  down 
the  innovator.  Nearly  all  these  martyrs  might  in  their 
last  hour  have  repeated  the  dying  words  of  Gregory  VII, 
for  they  sought  justice  and  died  for  liberty. 

Thus,  in  the  Middle  Ages  tradition  repressed  personal 
initiative.  The  whole  moral  life  of  man  was  wounded 
by  the  rigor  of  its  discipline,  and  its  effects  are  shown 
in  the  works  of  the  mind.  France,  whose  medieval 
period  was  prolonged  until  the  sixteenth  century,  saw, 
from  the  fourteenth  century  on,  the  decline  of  her 
genius ;  her  earlier  civilization,  so  full  of  promise,  sud- 

478 


The  Antecedents  of  the  Renaissance 

denly  languished,  as  if  attacked  by  a  secret  disease.  On 
the  other  hand,  from  the  twelfth  century  onward,  Italy 
little  by  little  shook  from  her  shoulders  the  crushing 
garment  of  the  past,  and  already  a  morning  glow  of 
renaissance  illuminated  her,  when  the  twilight  of  the  old 
ages  seemed  to  be  settling  down  thicker  and  thicker  upon 
France. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  original  creations  of  the 
North  of  France,  between  the  eleventh  and  the  thirteenth 
centuries — the  chanson  dc  geste,  the  romance  of  chivalry, 
and  Gothic  architecture— had  a  tremendous  vogue 
throughout  Christendom.  From  the  French  trouveres 
the  whole  civilized  world  got  Charlemagne  and  the  heroes 
of  the  Round  Table.  The  lyric  poetry  of  the  Provenqals 
had  almost  as  great  success  throughout  Latin  Europe. 
The  French  troubadours  carried  their  lyres  into  Sicily, 
Tuscany,  Catalonia  and  Portugal.  Italy  exhibits,  in  her 
earliest  lyrical  works,  the  Provencal  influence.  Toward 
the  year  1200  the  first  literature  of  the  Italian  peninsula 
appeared,  and  it  was  really  Franco-Italian.  The  Lombard 
troubadour,  Sordello,  wrote  in  langne  d’o'il.  As  late  as 
the  fifteenth  century  Italy  translated,  recast  and  compiled 
the  French  romances  which  Dante  read;  she  mingled  the 
matter  of  France  and  of  Brittany  in  popular  books  which 
later  gave  inspiration  to  Pulci  and  Ariosto.  Such 
astounding  success  may  be  explained  by  a  variety  of 
reasons.  The  figure  of  Charlemagne  was  always  the 
most  august  memory  of  history.  He  had  accomplished 
three  things  which  made  him  sacred  to  the  Middle  Ages ; 
he  had  established  justice,  raised  the  Church,  and  beaten 
back  the  pagans.  Moreover,  he  had  reanimated  the 

479 


Medieval  Civilization 

image  of  the  Roman  Empire,  and  had  caused  the  earth 
to  tremble  beneath  the  hoofs  of  his  horse.  Christendom 
really  begins  with  Charlemagne.  Behind  him  marched 
his  peers — Roland,  Turpin  and  Renauld, — transfigured 
by  his  glory  and  lending  themselves,  even  better  than  their 
master,  to  the  fantasies  of  poetic  imagination.  The  his¬ 
torical  reality  of  the  personages  of  the  Round  Table  was 
much  more  vague ;  but  the  medieval  era  rediscovered  in 
them  all  its  dreams  and  all  its  tears ;  rediscovered,  too, 
mystical  love,  the  worship  of  woman,  the  feeling  of  the 
vanity  of  life,  the  maternal  voice  of  nature  and  of  fairies, 
the  vision  of  the  terrestrial  paradise.  Arthur,  Merlin, 
Launcelot,  Perceval,  Tristan,  knights,  prophets  and  jus¬ 
ticiars,  fed  with  hope  the  peoples  bent  beneath  the  burden 
of  feudalism,  crusaders  going  to  the  Holy  Land,  and 
delicate  souls  whom  the  charm  of  a  love  stronger  than 
death  consoled  for  the  miseries  of  the  age.  From  the 
poets  of  the  South  of  France,  Europe  asked  the  same 
emotions— songs  of  love  and  battle  cries.  France  still 
had  leisure,  before  the  hour  of  her  decline,  to  give  to  sev¬ 
eral  of  her  neighbors  the  old  mocking  epopee  of  Reynard 
— the  parody  of  the  feudal  world,  the  revenge  of  villains 
on  their  lords,  of  mediocre  souls  on  the  prud’hommes,  of 
laymen  on  the  Church. 

French  literature  in  these  centuries  expressed  in  a 
marvelous  degree  the  thoughts,  regrets,  and  wishes  of 
all  Western  Europe.  And  this  literature,  with  its  adoles¬ 
cent  grace,  had  nothing  about  it  which  could  disconcert 
the  nations  to  whom,  in  the  order  of  civilization,  France 
seemed  an  elder  sister.  It  was  exquisitely  frank,  and 
most  intelligible  to  youthful  minds.  It  could,  without 

480 


The  Antecedents  of  the  Renaissance 

difficulty,  become  popular  in  foreign  lands.  If  it  had  been 
more  perfect  it  would  have  remained  more  strictly  na¬ 
tional.  Its  very  naivete  made  it  European.  It  would  be 
unjust  to  consider  this  trait  a  defect,  for  it  was  character¬ 
istic  of  its  age.  The  consciousness  of  the  old  French 
poets  was  but  a  half-opened  flower.  The  gifts  of  moral 
maturity,  the  ripe  fruits  of  reflection,  interest  in  the  mys¬ 
teries  of  the  heart,  the  art  of  imagining,  with  the  aid  of 
one’s  own  emotions,  the  passion  of  another,  and  the  still 
more  difficult  art  of  creating  narrative  upon  the  basis  of 
the  emotion  of  others,  and  of  touching  the  reader  with 
the  nuances  of  the  composition,  were  beyond  the  powers 
of  the  trouveres.  Their  imagination  was  the  impersonal 
imagination  of  the  Middle  Ages.  They  gave  to  their  era 
and  to  the  world  the  legends  of  love  and  of  battles  which 
filled  the  memory  of  the  multitude.  Their  experience  was 
after  all  very  restricted,  and  they  made  only  slight  efforts 
to  disentangle  the  history  of  the  confused  traditions  which 
came  down  to  them.  The  Carolingian  chansons  de  geste 
embody  the  memories  of  the  Merovingian  epoch.  Con¬ 
sider  now  the  troubadours.  Their  form  is  very  varied, 
even  skilful,  but  their  inspiration  is  altogether  juvenile — 
timid  sensuality,  ingenious  rather  than  touching  tender¬ 
ness,  tears  quickly  dried-up,  infantile  gusts  of  anger 
which  are  immediately  dissipated  or  which  lose  their 
force  by  being  directed  simultaneously  against  all  those 
whom  the  poet  hates— such  is  the  genius  of  the  Pro¬ 
vencals.  They  sing  passion  as  the  poets  of  the  medieval 
West,  French  or  German,  sing  nature;  the  latter  are  in¬ 
terested  in  flowers,  the  heath,  sunbeams ;  they  have  fore¬ 
ground,  but  no  background :  they  paint  in  striking  colors 

481 


Medieval  Civilization 

the  object  under  their  eyes,  the  fugitive  sensation  which 
stirs  them ;  there  was  as  yet  no  one  who  could  see  and 
measure  the  profound  depths  of  nature  and  of  the  human 
heart. 

Could  the  North  of  France  have  produced  a  Dante  or 
an  Ariosto,  and  the  South  of  France  a  Guido  Cavalcanti 
or  a  Petrarch  ?  The  Albigensian  crusade  did  not  leave 
the  South  the  leisure  to  bear  all  its  fruits ;  a  noble  civil¬ 
ization,  quickly  blotted  out,  carried  with  it  the  secret  of 
its  future.  On  the  other  hand,  the  literature  of  the 
langue  d’ oil  pursued  untroubled  the  course  of  its  destiny. 
In  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  France  read  and 
apparently  understood  the  Latin  writers,  and  classical 
culture  slowly  aided  the  growth,  of  literary  consciousness. 
Nevertheless,  in  the  age  of  St.  Louis,  when  the  French 
nationality  already  recognized  itself  clearly,  every  effort 
to  create  a  literature  of  reflection  was  still  premature. 
Compare  the  graceful  feebleness  of  the  understanding  of 
Joinville  with  the  intellectual  health  of  his  Italian  con¬ 
temporary,  Marco  Polo !  Already  the  old  chivalrous  vein 
was  exhausted ;  compilers  were  Recasting,  abridging, 
translating  into  prose  or  lengthening  beyond  all  reason 
the  ancient  works.  Don  Quixote’s  library  had  begun. 
Powerless  to  rejuvenate  the  literary  tradition,  the  writers 
were  seeking  a  new  one.  They  show  to  what  an  extent 
three  centuries  of  scholasticism  had  worn  out  the  elasticity 
of  the  French  mind.  And,  just  as  men  could  no  longer 
reason  about  real  things,  so  they  were  no  longer  capable 
of  creating  living  beings.  Scholasticism  had  arrested 
science  and  had  dried  up  the  springs  of  poesy.  The  era 
of  abstractions  and  versified  chimeras  had  come.  Charle- 

482 


The  Antecedents  of  the  Renaissance 

magne,  Roland  and  Merlin  were  now  pure  accidents, 
literary  quiddities  which  men  rejected;  henceforth  uni- 
versals  alone  had  the  right  to  move  and  speak — one  can¬ 
not  say  to  act :  vices  and  virtues,  the  species  and  the 
genera  which  already  peopled  the  first  part  of  the  Roman 
de  ta  Rose,  are  joined,  in  the  second  part,  by  two  high 
quintessences,  Reason  and  Nature,  who  find  it  no  effort 
to  sermonize  to  the  length  of  three  thousand  verses.  A 
subtle  preaching  invaded  the  whole  poetic  field.  Theo¬ 
logical  allegory  glided  into  the  romance  of  Reynard  and 
extinguished  its  gaiety.  Symbolism  envelops  this  doc¬ 
toral  literature  as  with  a  fog;  only  the  wholly  middle-class 
and  mocking  forms  of  literature — the  fabliau,  the  mys¬ 
tery,  the  tale  and  the  farce — maintained  themselves  with 
joy.  But  what  a  gulf  between  all  this  and  the  Song  of 
Roland ! 

Gothic  architecture,  the  supreme  French  art,  perished 
from  the  same  disease  which  slew  poetry.  During  a  long 
period  it  had  remained  true  to  sedate  Romanic  traditions 
—solid  pillars,  grand  lines,  and  proportions  which  tran- 
quilize  the  eye.  It  respected  the  laws  of  matter.  But 
now  it  passionately  carried  lightness  to  the  point  of  folly. 
It  exaggerated  heights  and  voids,  rarefied  the  stone,  re¬ 
duced  the  walls  to  the  utmost  degree  of  thinness,  and 
played  with  pillars  and  vaults  as  if  these  masses  were  only 
geometrical  figures ;  weight  and  equilibrium  were  laws 
it  no  longer  regarded.  The  object  now  was  to  raise  to 
the  skies  the  chiseled  dream  of  spires  and  towers ;  detail, 
refined  beyond  measure,  and  multiplied  in  pointed  tri¬ 
angles,  in  order  to  support  the  aerial  whole,  steadily  in¬ 
creased,  and  absorbed  not  only  the  horizontal  lines  but  all 

483 


Medieval  Civilization 

the  great  lines.  The  cathedrals,  maintained  erect  against 
all  probability,  supported  by  thousands  of  buttresses, 
veritable  sophisms  in  stone,  remind  one  of  the  syllogisms 
of  the  school,  where  reasoning,  deprived  of  reason  in  the 
premises,  totters  and  would  give  way  were  it  not  sus¬ 
tained  by  the  adjacent  sophism.  Architecture,  tortured 
and  diseased,  killed  the  other  arts ;  the  severe  statue  of 
the  twelfth  century  would  in  this  age  have  found  no 
place  in  the  edifice  in  which  to  stand  upright ;  the  delicate 
statuette  of  the  thirteenth  century  was  reduced  to  the 
role  of  embroidery ;  sculpture  degenerated  into  imagery ; 
the  Madonna  and  the  Child  lost  all  nobility ;  the  Child  be¬ 
came  “only  a  bourgeois  child  whom  they  were  amusing” ; 
impudent  gargoyles,  fantastic  flowers,  and  grotesque  imps 
more  and  more  changed  the  mystic  form  of  the  churches ; 
and  painting  upon  glass  was  corrupted  by  the  pursuit  of 
detail  and  the  search  for  effect. 

The  historical  experience  of  the  Middle  Ages  was, 
then,  completed  for  France.  Her  civilization  was  unable 
to  prolong  or  rejuvenate  its  originality.  The  earliest 
civilization  of  the  West  had  produced  its  last  results  in 
France.  Italy,  which  had  early  rebelled  against  this  civil¬ 
ization,  had  a  different  experience.  Her  Middle  Ages 
bore  the  most  fruitful  germs  of  her  Renaissance. 

In  the  concert  of  Christendom  Italy  always  played  a 
unique  part.  Invaded  successively  by  Goths,  Lombards, 
Arabs,  and  Normans,  and  ruled  by  Byzantines,  Franks, 
Hohenstaufens  and  Angevins,  she  received  from  her 
masters  only  that  which  pleased  her,  and  arranged  her 
civilization,  her  public  life  and  her  religion  in  accord  with 
her  own  likings..  From  the  history  of  Rome  she  had 

484 


The  Antecedents  of  the  Renaissance 

chosen  to  preserve  only  traditions  of  liberty,  maintained 
by  the  continued  existence  of  her  corporations  of  artisans, 
and  an  ideal  image  that  served  as  a  norm  by  which  to 
judge  the  regime  of  the  double  universal  monarchy  and 
feudalism.  This  triple  yoke  she  bore  more  lightly  than 
any  other  people  because  she  had  early  learned  the  art  of 
playing  off  the  emperor  against  the  pope,  and  thus  caus¬ 
ing  them  to  weaken  each  other.  She  knew  how  to  pre¬ 
vent,  through  the  resistance  of  the  Church,  the  absolute 
primacy  of  the  empire ;  through  the  support  she  lent  the 
emperors,  and  through  the  obstinate  pretensions  of  the 
commune  of  Rome,  she  unceasingly  checked  the  progress 
of  the  temporal  primacy  of  the  Church ;  and  very  cleverly 
she  employed  first  the  pope  and  then  the  emperor  to  en¬ 
feeble  the  counts  and  protect  the  municipal  republics. 
When  she  had  emancipated  herself  from  the  despotism  of 
the  feudal  lords,  it  was  found  that  she  had  at  the  same 
time  weakened  both  the  Holy  See  and  the  empire,  by  de¬ 
stroying  the  hierarchy  which  supported  them ;  and  thus 
her  hands  were  freer  to  deal  with  either  of  them.  Hence¬ 
forth  they  had  to  deal  with  an  Italy  of  communes  which, 
whether  Guelf  or  Ghibelline,  could,  through  her  military 
leagues,  exhibit  the  views  of  a  truly  national  policy. 
Italy  had,  in  truth,  a  more  tragic  history  than  any  other 
people,  because  the  crux  of  all  the  problems  which 
agitated  Christendom  was  at  Rome,  and  yet,  at  bottom, 
this  history  was  perfectly  self-conscious.  With  the  ex¬ 
ception  of  the  Two  Sicilies,  which  were  always  falling 
under  some  foreign  dominion,  Italy  sought  a  new  social 
order,  founded  on  the  autonomy  of  cities,  and  then  on 
that  of  provinces — a  regime  in  which  the  suzerainty  of 

485 


Medieval  Civilization 

emperor  and  pope  had  become  fictitious,  in  which  the 
Holy  See,  until  the  fifteenth  century,  had  seen  itself  con¬ 
tinually  dispossessed  of  its  temporal  royalty  by  the  com¬ 
mune  of  Rome,  but  in  which  the  Roman  Church,  as  the 
master-creation  of  Italian  genius,  always  preserved  its 
prestige.  Italy  harassed  the  popes ;  during  three  cen¬ 
turies  she  saw  them  flee,  proscribed  and  outraged,  along 
her  highways,  and  felt  no  remorse ;  but  she  never  con¬ 
sented  to  rally  to  the  support  of  the  anti-popes — generally 
Germans— whom  the  emperors  gave  her.  In  the  days 
of  the  Avignonese  papacy  she  resisted  the  seductions  of 
a  schism ;  in  the  days  of  the  Great  Schism  she  knew  how 
to  reserve  apostolic  legitimacy  for  her  own  pontiffs. 

It  was  indeed  natural  that  the  greatest  efforts  of  the 
Italians  were  directed  to  maintaining  their  religious  inde¬ 
pendence.  It  would  have  profited  them  nothing  to  escape 
the  control  of  the  empire  and  of  feudalism  if  they  had 
submitted  to  the  domination  of  the  Holy  See.  A  sort  of 
tacit  concordat  was  established  between  the  Church  and 
Italy  in  which  reciprocal  leniency  was  the  principal  ele¬ 
ment.  The  Church  permitted  the  Italians  to  pass  with¬ 
out  austerity  or  sadness  through  this  vale  of  tears.  The 
popes  granted  the  Italians  ecclesiastical  liberties  which 
they  had  refused  to  foreigners ;  the  Church  at  Milan, 
whose  archbishop  was  a  sort  of  sovereign  pontiff,  was 
conceded  liturgical  autonomy ;  Venice,  a  patriarchate  al¬ 
most  independent  of  Rome;  Sicily  and  the  Neapolitan 
South  were  permitted  an  astonishing  likeness  to  the 
Greek  communion,  and  the  use  of  the  Greek  language  in 
worship.  The  best  Christians  of  Italy,  the  monks  and 
the  anchorites,  unceasingly  raised  their  voices  against  the 

486 


*  The  Antecedents  of  the  Renaissance 

abuses  of  the  Roman  pontificate,  corrupted  by  secular 
power.  Peter  Damiani,  the  friend  of  Gregory  VII,  de¬ 
plored  that  the  Church  had  the  temporal  sword  in  her 
hands.  Dante’s  furious  invectives  against  Rome  are 
well-known,  as  is  the  insolence  shown  by  the  monk  Jaco- 
pone  toward  Boniface  VIII.  But  in  all  this,  political 
passion  rather  than  religious  emotion  is  to  be  seen. 

Italian  Christianity  is  a  singular  creation.  It  has  in  it 
much  of  the  primitive  faith.  Narrow  dogma,  rigid  moral¬ 
ity,  strict  practices,  and  the  hierarchy,  trouble  its  inde¬ 
pendence  but  little.  Individual  inspiration  and  direct 
communion  of  the  faithful  with  God,  which  form  the 
basis  of  the  Franciscan  religion,  are  perhaps  the  most 
essential  traditions  of  the  Italian  spirit.  One  thought 
frequently  appears  in  their  first  writers,  as,  for  example, 
in  Dante,  that  true  religion  is  a  matter  of  the  heart.  Dante 
puts  King  Manfred  in  purgatory,  though  the  Church  had 
cursed  him  and  Clement  IV  had  his  body  torn  from  its 
sepulcher  and  thrown  on  the  banks  of  the  Garigliano. 
“No,”  exclaims  the  son  of  Frederick  II  in  Dante’s  verse, 
“their  curse  cannot  damn  us.”  Per  las  maledizion  si  non 
si  perde. 

Italy  was  not  far  from  thinking  that  all  religions  lead 
to  the  kingdom  of  God.  The  proximity  of  the  most 
diverse  faiths — of  Islam  and  the  Greek  Church — had 
saved  her  from  religious  egotism,  and  toleration  led  her 
to  entertain  a  liberal  notion  of  orthodoxy.  The  story  of 
the  three  rings  was  familiar  long  before  Boccaccio.  This 
explains  why  the  Italians,  very  free  within  the  precincts 
of  their  Church,  never  thought  seriously  of  leaving  it. 
They  have  never  had  a  national  heresy :  the  Lombard 

487 


Medieval  Civilization 

pataria,  oriental  Catharism,  and  the  affiliation  with  the 
Waldensian  sect,  between  the  eleventh  and  the  thirteenth 
centuries,  were  only  brief  experiments  at  revolt  and  were 
more  social  than  religious.  The  doctrine  which  sprang 
up  from  the  predictions  of  Joachim  de  Flore,  appeared 
for  a  short  time  more  threatening;  it  disturbed  the  Fran¬ 
ciscan  world  with  the  hope  of  a  third  revelation— the 
eternal  Gospel  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  The  Holy  See  treated 
this  outburst  of  Italian  mysticism  with  tenderness ;  it 
authorized  Joachim’s  liturgy  and  worship  in  the  dioceses 
of  Calabria ;  it  condemned  John  of  Parma,  the  general  of 
the  Franciscans,  then  offered  him  the  cardinal’s  hat,  and 
finally  canonized  him ;  it  allowed  the  little  sects  of 
Fraticelli  and  Spirituals,  which  perpetuated  Joachimism, 
to  multiply,  and  it  canonized  in  his  turn  Jacopone,  the 
most  fiery  of  all  these  sectaries.  It  was  well  understood 
between  the  Church  and  Italy,  that,  according  to  the 
words  borrowed  by  Joachim  from  St.  Paul,  “Where  the 
spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there  is  liberty.”  A  free  conscience 
in  a  free  city  was  the  law  of  Italian  civilization  in  the 
great  medieval  centuries. 

In  the  domain  of  thought  the  Italian  of  the  Middle 
Ages  was  no  less  master  of  himself.  He  thought  freely 
and  very  sanely.  It  is  a  most  significant  fact  that  scho¬ 
lasticism  was  never  firmly  rooted  in  the  peninsula.  Italy 
gave  to  the  school  of  Paris  several  of  its  greatest  doctors 
—  Peter  Lombard,  St.  Thomas,  St.  Bona ventura,  Gilles 
de  Rome  and  James  of  Viterbo;  but  those  of  them 
who  returned  to  Italy,  dazzled  rather  than  won  over  their 
compatriots.  St.  Thomas  explained  his  doctrines  before 
Urban  IV,  “by  a  singular  and  novel  method,”  wrote  a 

488 


The  Antecedents  of  the  Renaissance 

contemporary.  Scholasticism  was  accepted  docilely  in 
Italy  only  by  the  theologians  and  the  monks.  In  the 
fourteenth  century,  Petrarch,  and  Cino  da  Rinuccini,  in 
his  Paradis  des  Alberti,  ridiculed  the  trivium  and  the  quad- 
rivium.  The  first  moralists,  Brunetto  Latini  and  Dante, 
might  preserve  in  their  works,  as  they  did,  the  divisions 
and  the  logical  appearance  of  scholasticism ;  in  reality 
they  proceeded  by  experience  in  their  descriptions  of 
nature  and  of  the  human  heart.  The  national  science  of 
Italy,  at  Bologna,  Rome  and  Padua,  was  not  dialectics, 
but  the  written  law  of  Rome,  that  is,  reason  applied  to 
the  things  of  actual  life;  it  is  also  the  Aristotelianism 
transmitted  by  the  Arabs,  but  absolutely  freed  from 
theology,  that  is,  Averroism,  with  which  the  revival  of 
the  natural  sciences  and  of  medicine  was  connected.  This 
great  school,  whose  center  was  Padua,  mightily  disturbed 
the  Church.  The  religious  painters,  for  example  Benozzo 
Gozzoli,  willingly  depict  Averroes  prone  upon  the  ground, 
as  Anti-Christ,  beneath  the  feet  of  St.  Thomas.  The 
Averroists  attempted  in  medieval  Italy,  a  reconnaissance 
of  the  purely  rational  order  which  Descartes  will  resume 
for  France.  Their  more  or  less  declared  adherents  went 
very  quickly  to  the  extreme  limit  of  incredulity :  they 
denied  the  immortality  of  the  soul  and  the  soul  itself. 
When  the  common  people,  gente  volgare,  saw  Guido 
Cavalcanti  pass  musingly  through  the  streets  of  Florence, 
they  asserted  that  he  was  thinking  up  reasons  for  disbe¬ 
lieving  in  God.  Even  in  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth 
century,  as  Villani  reports,  Florence  had  epicureans  who 
scoffed  at  God  and  the  saints,  and  lived  according  to  the 
flesh.  As  all  these  free  spirits  belonged  to  the  Ghibelline 


Medieval  Civilization 

party,  it  is  perhaps  well  to  accept  only  with  reservations 
the  charges  made  against  them  by  Guelfs  and  monks. 
One  cannot,  with  certainty,  measure  the  extent  of  their 
scepticism,  but  it  is  necessary  to  mark  well  their  posses¬ 
sion  of  this  trait  of  the  modern  man.  They  had,  in  their 
unbelief,  that  pride  natural  to  consciences  which  scorn  the 
faith  or  the  illusions  of  their  age.  Dante  condemns  them, 
as  heretics,  but  one  feels  that  he  admires  them,  for  they 
are  of  his  race.  Farinata  degli  Uberti,  the  most  haughty 
of  all,  placed  upright  in  his  burning  sepulcher,  with  dis¬ 
dainful  forehead,  seems,  Dante  says,  to  hold  hell  in  the 
greatest  scorn.  But  have  we  not  already  lost  sight  of  the 
Middle  Ages  in  the  West?  While  France  halts  in  the 
work  of  civilization,  Italy,  a  more  backward  worker,  is 
quite  ready  to  devise  a  new  civilization.  She  holds  in  her 
hands  the  instrument  of  all  progress— the  art  of  thinking 
clearly;  she  knows  how  to  oppose  to  the  authority  of 
tradition,  the  rational  worth,  and  the  energy  of  the  in¬ 
dividual.  She  passes  almost  imperceptibly  from  the 
Middle  Ages  to  the  Renaissance. 


490 


St.  Louis 


Adapted  from  C.  V.  Langlois,  in  Lavisse:  Histoire  de  France, 
Vol.  Ill,  Part  ii,  1901,  pp.  18-40. 

NOTHING  is  known  about  the  youth  of  Louis  IX 
except  what  the  king  later  chose  to  relate  to  his 
friends.  His  mother,  Blanche  of  Castile,  told  him  many 
times  that  she  would  rather  see  him  dead  than  have  him 
commit  a  mortal  sin.  Her  words  made  a  vivid  impres¬ 
sion  upon  him.  He  also  remembered  with  pleasure  that, 
when  he  went  to  play  in  the  woods  or  along  the  river 
bank,  he  was  always  accompanied  by  his  tutor,  who 
taught  him  his  letters  and  from  time  to  time  thrashed 
him.  He  was  brought  up  “like  a  nobleman,”  as  was  fit¬ 
ting  for  a  prince,  but  very  piously,  after  the  Spanish 
fashion.  Every  day  he  heard  mass,  vespers,  and  the 
canonical  hours.  He  was  a  very  good  and  sweet-tem¬ 
pered  child.  He  shunned  noisy  games  and  did  not  care 
for  playthings.  He  had  no  intimate  companions ;  he 
did  not  sing  the  popular  songs,  and  he  made  one  of  his 
squires  who  did  sing  them  learn  instead  to  sing  the  an¬ 
thems  of  Notre  Dame  and  of  the  Ave,  maris  Stella, 
“although  it  was  very  difficult.”  From  his  childhood 
he  was  charitable :  Stephen  of  Bourbon  reports  that 
“according  to  the  popular  tradition,  one  morning,  while 
he  was  still  very  young,  a  number  of  poor  people  were 

491 


Medieval  Civilization 

assembled  in  the  court  .before  his  lodging  awaiting  alms. 
Taking  advantage  of  the  hour  when  everyone  was 
asleep,  he  left  his  room,  accompanied  only  by  a  servant, 
carrying  a  large  number  of  pennies,  and  he  distributed 
these  to  the  poor.  He  was  returning  when  a  monk,  who 
had  perceived  him  from  the  corner  of  a  window,  said : 
‘Sire  King,  I  have  seen  your  misdeeds.’  ‘Very  dear 
brother,’  replied  Louis,  ‘the  poor  are  in  my  service. 
They  bring  upon  the  kingdom  the  benediction  of  peace. 
I  have  not  paid  them  all  that  I  owe  them.’  ” 

Old  portraits  of  Louis  IX  are  numerous  enough,  but 
indefinite  and  contradictory.  We  know,  however,  that 
from  his  grandmother,  Queen  Isabella,  he  had  inherited 
the  renowned  beauty  of  the  princes  of  the  house  of 
Hainault,  which  was  perpetuated,  through  Philip  the 
Rash  and  Philip  the  Fair,  in  the  last  Capetians  of  the 
direct  line.  “The  king,”  says  the  Franciscan,  Salim- 
bene,  who  saw  him  in  1248,  “was  tall  and  graceful, 
subtilis  et  gracilis ,  convenienter  et  longus,  with  an  an¬ 
gelic  air  and  a  very  gracious  countenance.”  Joinville 
says,  in  his  account  of  the  battle  of  Mansourah :  “Never 
have  I  seen  such  a  beautiful  armed  man,  for  he  towered 
above  his  knights  by  a  whole  head.  He  wore  a  gilded 
helmet  and  held  a  German  sword  in  his  hand.”  When 
he  was  young,  he  must  have  had  thick  blond  locks. 
Later,  and  early  in  life,  he  was  bald  and  a  little  bent. 
His  body,  which  he  subjected  to  excessive  mortifications, 
was  more  shapely  than  strong.  All  who  saw  him  agree 
in  saying  that  his  appearance  was  frank,  affable,  and 
thoughtful.  He  had  the  “eyes  of  a  dove.”  His  costume 
was  simple.  His  apologists,  the  monks,  exaggerate 


492 


St.  Louis 


when  they  say  that  after  his  twentieth  year  he  entirely 
renounced  the  magnificent  costumes  to  which  Queen 
Blanche  had  accustomed  him  during  his  infancy,  because 
of  his  rank.  But,  after  his  return  from  the  crusade  of 
1248,  a  notable  reform  was  seen  in  his  manner  of  dress, 
as  well  as  in  the  whole  conduct  of  his  life.  He  gave  up 
costly  furs,  the  vair,  and  the  gris.  After  that,  his  robes 
were  trimmed  with  lamb,  rabbit,  or  squirrel ;  he  re¬ 
nounced  striking  colors :  in  winter,  he  wore  garments  of 
dark  wool,  and  in  summer,  of  brown  or  black  silk.  The 
equipment  of  his  horse  was  white,  unadorned ;  his  spurs 
and  stirrups  were  of  iron,  ungilded.  We  shall  always 
think  of  him  just  as  Joinville  saw  him  one  summer’s 
day  in  his  garden  at  Paris,  “clad  in  a  coat  of  camelot,  a 
surcoat  of  linsey-woolsey  without  sleeves,  a  mantle  of 
black  sendal  about  his  neck,  very  well  combed  and  with¬ 
out  coif,  and  a  hat  with  a  white  peacock’s  feather  on  his 
head.”  This  almost  clerical  costume  undoubtedly  helped 
as  much  as  the  reputation  of  the  holiness  of  his  person, 
to  inspire  the  ill-natured  description  attributed  to  the 
count  of  Gueldre’s  messenger :  “This  miserable  devotee, 
this  hypocritical  king,  with  a  wry  neck  and  a  cowl  on  his 
shoulders.” 

The  envoy  of  Gueldre  was  not  the  only  one  who  accused 
Louis  IX  in  his  lifetime  of  hypocrisy.  Among  his  sub¬ 
jects,  who  were,  in  general,  little  devout,  very  many, 
lords  and  common  people,  smiled  or  were  indignant  at 
the  extreme  piety  of  the  king.  They  called  him  “brother 
Louis,”  frater  Ludovicus.  The  same  idea  is  expressed 
by  the  well-known  anecdote  of  the  woman  named  Sarete 
de  Faillouel,  who  saw  the  king  one  day  just  as  he  was 


493 


Medieval  Civilization 

leaving  his  apartments,  and  addressed  him  in  these 
terms :  “Fie !  Fie !  Are  you  the  man  to  be  king  of 
France?  It  would  be  better  that  another  should  be  king 
in  your  place,  for  you  are  only  king  of  the  Minorites  and 
of  the  Dominicans,  of  the  priests  and  of  the  clergy.  It ’s 
an  outrage  that  you  should  be  king  of  France.  It  ’s  a 
great  marvel  that  they  don’t  put  you  out.”  Were  these 
popular  sarcasms  and  the  more  discreet  criticism  of  well- 
educated  persons  justifiable?  Is  it  true  that  St.  Louis 
was  better  adapted  for  the  cloister  than  for  the  world, 
as  has  been  said,  both  in  his  own  day  and  ours? 

The  clerks  who  were  the  biographers  of  St.  Louis  or 
the  witnesses  who  testified  during  the  process  of  his 
canonization,  certainly  tell  remarkable  stories  about  the 
devotion  of  this  prince.  The  biographers,  Geoffrey  of 
Beaulieu  and  William  of  Chartres,  give  the  schedule  of 
the  hours  which  Louis  passed  daily  in  prayer.  At  mid¬ 
night  he  dressed,  in  order  to  take  part  in  the  matins  in 
his  chapel ;  he  went  back  to  bed,  half-dressed,  and,  for 
fear  lest  he  might  prolong  his  sleep  too  much,  he  told 
his  attendants  to  wake  him  for  prime  when  the  candle 
had  burned  a  certain  distance;  after  prime,  each  morn¬ 
ing  he  heard  at  least  two  masses :  a  low  mass  for  the 
dead,  and  the  mass  of  the  day,  chanted ;  then,  during  the 
rest  of  the  day,  the  offices  of  tierce,  sext,  and  none,  ves¬ 
pers  and  compline;  in  the  evening,  after  fifty  genuflec¬ 
tions  and  as  many  Ave  Marias,  he  went  to  bed,  without 
drinking,  although  it  was  then  customary  before  going 
to  bed.  Even  when  traveling,  he  did  not  interrupt  the 
regularity  of  these  observances.  “When  he  was  riding 
on  horseback,  at  the  hour  prescribed  by  the  Church, 


494 


St.  Louis 


tierce,  sext,  and  none  were  chanted  by  his  chaplains,  on 
horseback  about  him,  and  he  himself  with  one  of  the 
company  said  them  in  a  low  tone,  as  if  he  were  in  his 
chapel.”  Often,  kneeling,  without  cushions,  on  the  pave¬ 
ment  of  a  church  with  his  elbows  upon  a  bench,  he  be¬ 
came  absorbed  in  such  long  meditations — such  extremely 
long  ones — that  his  servants,  who  were  waiting  at  the 
door,  grew  impatient.  Then,  he  asked  God  with  so  much 
fervor  for  the  “gift  of  tears”  that  he  sometimes  rose  all 
confused,  seeing  only  obscurely,  and  saying,  “Where 
am  I.”  On  special  festivals  he  had  the  divine  service 
celebrated  with  so  much  solemnity  and  slowness  that,  as 
the  Confessor  of  Queen  Marguerite  naively  avowed, 
everyone  was  tired. 

The  chapter  on  his  abstinences  and  mortifications,  in 
the  biographies  written  by  the  clerks,  is  no  less  edifying 
than  the  chapter  on  his  prayers.  Louis  IX,  from  a  feel¬ 
ing  of  penitence,  deprived  himself  of  things  which  he 
loved :  early  vegetables,  large  fishes,  particularly  the 
pike.  He  detested  beer,  as  was  clearly  shown  by  the 
face  which  he  made  when  he  drank  it ;  nevertheless  he 
drank  it,  during  the  whole  of  Lent,  precisely  because  he 
wished  “to  bridle  his  appetite  for  wine.”  Very  few 
people,  moreover,  put  as  much  water  in  their  wine  as  he 
did,  and  he  put  water  even  in  the  sauces,  when  they  were 
good,  so  as  to  make  them  insipid.  Of  course,  he  fasted 
frequently  and  severely.  Shortly  before  his  death,  one 
Saturday,  he  refused  to  take  the  mulled  egg  recom¬ 
mended  by  the  doctors,  because  his  confessor  was  not 
present  to  grant  him  permission.  He  never  laughed  on 
Fridays,  or,  if  he  began  to  be  cheerful,  forgetting  what 

495 


Medieval  Civilization 

day  it  was,  he  stopped  short  as  soon  as  he  remembered. 
On  that  day,  in  memory  of  the  crown  of  thorns,  he  did 
not  wear  any  hat,  and  he  forbade  his  children  to  wear 
garlands  of  roses,  as  was  the  custom  of  the  time.  He 
who,  in  the  words  of  Geoffrey  of  Beaulieu,  committed  no 
mortal  sin,  confessed  every  Friday,  and  had  the  disci¬ 
pline  administered  to  him  by  his  confessors  with  five 
little  chains  of  iron ;  he  was  heard  to  say  smilingly  that 
some  of  these  ecclesiastics  did  not  have  the  “dead  hand.” 
In  vain  did  brother  Geoffrey  attempt  to  show  him  that 
the  use  of  haircloth  was  not  fitting  to  his  position ;  he 
wore  it  and  he  made  presents  of  similar  instruments  of 
penitence  to  his  friends,  his  kinsmen,  and  his  daughter, 
the  queen  of  Navarre. 

What  is  to  be  said  of  his  charity?  “His  liberality 
toward  the  unfortunate,”  a  contemporary  declares, 
“passed  all  bounds.”  Every  day,  wherever  the  king  was, 
more  than  a  hundred  poor  received  their  pittance.  His 
almsgiving,  abundant  and  continual,  cost  him  dear,  for 
it  sometimes  extended  to  entire  regions  and  often  took 
the  form  of  lasting  foundations.  “One  year,  when  fam¬ 
ine  desolated  Normandy,  the  hogsheads  bound  with  iron 
that  the  wagons  ordinarily  brought  to  Paris  filled  with 
the  receipts  of  the  ireasury,  were  seen  making  the  jour¬ 
ney  in  the  opposite  direction.”  The  hospital  foundations 
of  Louis  IX,  at  Paris  and  in  the  neighborhood,  are 
celebrated.  Among  them  were  the  Filles-Dieu,  for  the 
prostitutes,  the  Quinze-Vingts,  for  the  blind,  the  hos¬ 
pitals  of  Pontoise,  of  Vernon,  of  Compiegne,  etc.,  for 
the  sick.  “As  a  writer  who  has  made  his  book,”  says 
Joinville,  “illuminates  it  with  gold  and  azure,  the  king 

496 


St.  Louis 

illuminated  his  kingdom  .  .  .  with  the  great  quantity 
of  maisons-Dieu  that  he  built  there.”  But,  if  we  must 
believe  some  of  his  clerical  associates,  this  man,  who  was 
naturally  charitable,  was  not  contented  with  doing  well. 
In  an  ascetic  spirit  of  humility,  as  if  eager  for  morti¬ 
fication,  he  preferred,  among  good  works,  the  most  re¬ 
pugnant,  not  because  they  were  the  most  useful,  but 
because  they  were  repugnant.  Thus,  when  he  invited 
beggars  to  his  royal  table — which  happened  very  often 
—he  had  the  dirtiest  seated  by  him ;  he  served  them,  and 
cut  their  meat  and  bread.  That  is  not  all :  he  ate  the 
remnants  they  left,  out  of  the  plates  they  had  held  with 
their  unclean  hands,  cum  manibus  ulcerosis  el  immundis. 
Even  that  is  not  all :  he  washed  their  “scabby  and  dis¬ 
gusting”  feet,  and,  after  drying  them,  he  kissed  them. 
The  hagiographers,  full  of  their  subject,  record  details 
which  are  sickening.  More  brutal  and  more  disgusting 
still  are  their  stories  about  lepers.  Louis  IX  assisted 
the  lepers,— frightful  objects — with  his  own  hands  every 
time  he  met  them.  “Now  there  was  at  the  abbey  of 
Royaumont  a  brother  named  Leger,  who  had  been  iso¬ 
lated  because  he  was  so  consumed  with  leprosy  that  his 
nose  was  eaten  up,  his  eyes  gone,  and  his  lips  cracked 
open ;  running  with  pus,  he  was  abominable.  This 
brother  Leger  became  the  favorite  of  the  king,  who 
begged  the  abbot  to  go  and  see  Leger  with  him.  The 
abbot,  as  he  declared  later,  was  terrified  enough  in  doing 
so.  Louis  kneeled  before  the  leper,  and  fed  him.”  Louis 
also  entered  the  hospitals,  in  spite  of  the  “corruption  of 
the  air”  and  the  odor  of  infection  which  inconvenienced 
his  attendants,  and  there  he  felt  it  necessary,  from  time 


Medieval  Civilization 

to  time,  to  perform  the  most  disgusting  offices.  At 
Sidon,  in  Palestine,  he  aided  in  burying  the  putrified 
remains  of  the  Christians. 

When  we  read  the  list  of  good  works,  abstinences, 
and  observances  attributed  to  Louis  IX,  even  admitting 
that  the  witnesses  at  the  process  of  canonization  embel¬ 
lished  the  truth  (and  they  surely  embellished  it  involun¬ 
tarily  in  representing  certain  exceptional  acts  of  the 
saint  as  customary),  we  can  understand  well  enough 
the  invectives  of  Sarete. 

Louis  IX  understood  perfectly  that  the  excess  of 
his  devotions  and  certain  forms  of  his  charity  would 
tend  to  displease  his  people :  Sarete  taught  him 
nothing.  Consequently,  as  he  was  devoted  to  his  task 
as  king,  he  did  not  surrender  himself  unreservedly 
to  the  exercises  of  humility.  One  day,  when  he  mani¬ 
fested  a  desire  to  wash  the  feet  of  the  monks,  the  abbot 
of  Royaumont,  who  was  a  prudent  man,  dissuaded  him, 
saying,  “People  would  talk  about  it.”  “And  what  would 
they  say?”  replied  the  king.  But  he  knew  well  what 
they  would  say,  and  he  refrained  from  doing  it.  During 
his  frequent  sojourns  at  the  abbey  of  Royaumont,  he 
often  visited  the  infirmary,  and,  with  the  doctors,  in¬ 
spected  the  sick;  but,  “when  he  did  these  things,  he 
desired  that  few  people  should  be  present,  and  only 
those  who  were  his  trusted  companions.”  The  poor 
whose  feet  he  washed  every  Saturday  were  blind.  He 
had  them  gathered  with  great  care  and  “brought  very 
privately  to  his  closet,”  and  “it  was  thought  that  he 
chose  the  blind  more  willingly  in  order  that  they  should 
not  recognize  him  and  tell  about  it  outside.”  Louis  IX 

498 


St.  Louis 

attempted,  then,  to  conceal,  from  modesty,  and  from  a 
desire  not  to  lessen  the  royal  dignity,  such  of  his  good 
works  as  he  judged— not  without  reason— might  shock 
the  public.  His  subjects  certainly  did  not  have  any 
suspicion  about  most  of  his  macerations,  which  were 
revealed  after  his  death  only  by  his  most  intimate  con¬ 
fidants. 

Nevertheless,  he  did  not  have  any  fear  of  the  world. 
“There  are  some  noblemen,”  he  said  to  the  Sire  de  Join- 
ville,  “who  are  ashamed  to  do  right,  by  going  to  church 
and  hearing  the  service  of  God.  They  are  afraid  that 
people  will  say :  they  are  hypocrites.”  For  his  own  part, 
he  bore  it  cheerfully  when  his  conduct  was  blamed. 
When  the  nobles  murmured  at  seeing  him  pass  so  much 
time  at  the  religious  services,  he  said  that,  if  he  lost 
twice  as  much  time  playing  dice  or  hunting,  no  one 
would  find  fault.  To  those  who  reproached  him  with 
spending  too  much  in  charity  to  the  poor,  he  replied : 
“Be  silent.  God  has  given  me  everything  that  I  have. 
That  which  I  spend  thus  is  best  spent.”  Or  else :  “I 
prefer  that  my  excessive  expenditures  should  be  in  alms 
for  the  love  of  God  rather  than  in  luxury  or  in  the  vain¬ 
glory  of  this  world.”  Robert  de  Sorbon  recounts  that 
a  certain  prince  dressed  modestly  and  that  it  displeased 
his  wife.  “Madam,”  he  said  to  her,  “you  wish  me  to 
wear  costly  garments.  I  agree;  but,  since  the  conjugal 
law  is  that  the  husband  must  seek  to  please  his  wife  and 
vice  versa ,  you  are  going  to  give  me  pleasure  by  laying 
aside  your  beautiful  ornaments.  You  shall  conform  to 
my  habit,  and  I  to  yours.”  When  Louis  issued  his  ordi¬ 
nance  against  blasphemers,  there  were  protests;  but  he 


499 


Medieval  Civilization 

declared  that  he  was  better  pleased  with  the  curses  thus 
brought  upon  him  than  with  the  benedictions  which 
certain  works  of  public  utility  won  for  him  at  the  same 
time.  To  Sarete  he  replied,  without  getting  angry: 
“You  tell  the  truth,  assuredly.  I  am  not  worthy  to  be 
king,  and,  if  it  had  pleased  our  Saviour,  another  would 
have  -been  in  my  place,  who  would  have  known  better 
how  to  govern  the  kingdom.” 

Prudence  without  false  shame,  good  humor,  and  smil¬ 
ing  irony  are  some  of  the  traits  which  have  nothing  in 
common  with  the  exalted  mysticism  that  the  pious  folly 
of  his  attendants  saw  exclusively  in  Louis  IX.  In  fact, 
the  holiness  of  this  excellent  man  was  not  at  all  monas¬ 
tic,  and,  although  posterity  has  often  been  deceived  con¬ 
cerning  it,  just  as  the  crowd  was  in  his  own  day,  never 
was  any  saint  less  ecclesiastical  ( papelard )  and  more 
laic  than  he.  This  king,  who  did  not  love  beautiful  gar¬ 
ments  for  his  personal  use,  did  not  forbid  others  to  wear 
them:  “You  ought,”  he  said  to  his  son  Philip  and  his 
son-in-law  Thibaut,  “to  dress  well  and  neatly,  because 
your  wives  will  love  you  better,  and  because  people  will 
think  more  of  you,  for,  as  the  wise  man  said,  one  ought 
to  wear  such  a  costume  and  arms  that  the  best  men  of 
this  age  shall  not  say  that  he  is  overdoing  it  nor  the 
young  people  that  he  is  deficient.”  This  king,  who  was 
so  generous  to  the  poor  and  to  the  churches,  thought 
that  Thibaut,  his  son-in-law,  who  was  in  debt,  was  spend¬ 
ing  too  much  for  the  convent  of  the  Dominicans  that  he 
was  building  at  Provins ;  he  did  not  like  to  have  people 
“give  alms  with  another’s  money.”  This  king,  who  was 
so  passionately  devoted  to  pious  exercises,  sometimes 


500 


St.  Louis 

preferred  chatting  to  edifying  reading:  “When  we  were 
together  in  private,”  Joinville  recounts,  “he  sat  down  on 
the  foot  of  his  bed,  and,  when  the  Dominicans  and  the 
Cordeliers,  who  were  there,  mentioned  the  books  which 
he  loved  to  hear,  he  said :  ‘You  shall  not  read  to  me  at 
all,  for  reading,  after  a  meal,  is  not  as  pleasant  as 
quolibet,  that  is,  when  each  one  says  what  comes  into 
his  head.’  ”  This  king,  although  his  manners  were 
simple,  was  careful  about  the  dignity  of  his  court :  “In 
spite  of  the  great  sums  that  the  king  spent  in  almsgiv¬ 
ing,  he  expended  as  much  each  day  on  his  household. 
He  was  magnificent  and  liberal  in  his  dealings  with  the 
parlements  and  with  the  assemblies  of  barons  and 
knights.  He  had  his  court  served  bounteously  and  luxu¬ 
riously — more  so  than  had  been  the  case  for  a  long  time 
in  the  court  of  his  predecessors.”  Joinville,  who  was  a 
connoisseur  in  such  matters,  is  not  the  only  one  who 
attests  this.  Geoffrey  of  Beaulieu,  also,  states  that  the 
household  establishment  of  Louis  IX  was  more  brilliant 
than  that  of  the  former  kings.  Finally,  this  pretended 
papelard  made  fun  quietly  of  the  devout,  and,  to  tease 
Master  Robert  de  Sorbon,  he  pretended,  when  he  was 
gay,  to  prefer  the  virtue  of  the  knights  (of  the  gentle¬ 
men),  prud’homie,  to  the  virtue  of  the  clerks.  “Sen¬ 
eschal,”  he  said  to  Joinville,  “tell  me  the  reasons  why  a 
prud’homme  is  better  than  a  beguine.”  Then  Master 
Robert  and  Joinville  disputed,  and,  when  the  quarrel  had 
lasted  long  enough,  the  king  gave  his  decision  in  these 
terms :  “Master  Robert,  I  would  prefer  to  have  the  re¬ 
nown  of  a  prud’homme,  and  to  be  so  truly,  and  that  all 
the  rest  should  remain  for  you ;  for  prud’homie  is  such 


501 


Medieval  Civilization 

a  great  thing  and  such  a  good  thing  that  even  in  naming 
it  it  fills  the  mouth.” 

The  works  of  charity  and  penitence  of  Louis  IX  would 
not  be  enough  to  distinguish  him  from  a  host  of  other 
medieval  princes  who  were  exemplary  Christians ;  not 
even  from  his  contemporary,  King  Henry  III  of  Eng¬ 
land,  who  also  waited  on  lepers,  who  frequented 
churches  even  more  assiduously  than  his  brother-in-law 
of  France,  and  yet  was  a  fool.  That  which  renders 
Louis  IX  preeminent  is  his  upright,  refined,  pure  nature 
as  a  moralist  and  as  an  honorable  man. 

The  “saintly  king”  can  be  known  truly  by  hearing  him 
speak.  He  spoke  well,  easily,  and  wittily.  Joinville  and 
the  witnesses  at  the  inquest  concerning  his  canonization 
fortunately  have  preserved  many  of  his  sayings.  Why 
has  no  one  ever  thought  of  collecting  these  and  uniting 
them  to  the  Instructions  that  the  saint  dictated,  toward 
the  end  of  his  life,  for  his  son  Philip  and  for  his  daughter 
Isabel?  These  sayings  of  St.  Louis,  compared  with  the 
Thoughts  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  would  illustrate  the 
differences  which  separate  these  two  great  and  excellent 
men,  who  have  so  often  been  compared.  It  would  be 
Louis  IX  painted,  so  to  speak,  by  himself,  with  his  sim¬ 
ple  virtues,  in  no  way  superhuman,  and  also  with  his 
faults,  his  weaknesses,  and  his  mistakes. 

The  most  marked  trait  in  the  character  of  Louis  IX 
was  the  intensity  of  his  religious  and  moral  preoccupa¬ 
tions.  Throughout  his  life,  he  conscientiously  sought 
truth  and  justice,  with  the  fixed  idea  of  making  his  be¬ 
liefs  and  acts  conform  to  them. 

His  religious  beliefs  were,  up  to  a  certain  point,  the 

502 


St.  Louis 

result  of  thought.  Everyone  about  him  noticed  that  in 
the  matter  of  spiritual  exercises  he  preferred  sermons, 
the  reading  of  the  sacred  texts,  and  theological  discus¬ 
sions  to  the  observance  of  rites.  “The  king,”  wrote  the 
Confessor  of  Queen  Marguerite,  “heard  the  word  of 
God  very  gladly  and  very  often ;  when  he  took  a  ride,  if 
an  abbey  was  near  the  road,  he  turned  aside  and  had  a 
sermon  preached  there,  while  he  himself  sat  upon  the 
straw  and  the  monks  in  their  stalls.”  On  his  return  from 
the  Holy  Land,  while  he  was  at  Hyeres  in  Provence,  a 
Cordelier  named  Hugh,  who  was  a  popular  orator,  hap¬ 
pened  to  pass.  The  king  asked  him  for  a  sermon,  but 
this  brother  Hugh  was  no  courtier;  he  began  rudely  in 
these  words :  “My  lords,  I  see  too  many  monks  in  the 
court  of  the  king  and  in  his  company  who  ought  not  to 
be  there— -first  of  all  myself.”  He  spoke,  however,  so 
well  that  Joinville  advised  his  master  to  keep  this  bold 
adviser  near  him.  “But  the  king  said  to  me  that  he  had 
already  asked  him  and  that  brother  Hugh  was  un¬ 
willing.  Then  the  king  took  me  by  the  hand  and  said, 
‘Let  us  go  and  ask  him  again.’  ” 

Not  only  did  he  like  sermons  and  desire  that  others 
should  like  them,  but  he  was  a  connoisseur  and  distin¬ 
guished  the  good  from  the  bad.  For  a  layman,  Louis  IX 
was  very  well  versed  in  the  Scriptures  and  in  the  early 
Christian  literature.  “Each  day  after  compline  he  went 
to  his  room;  a  candle,  three  feet  or  thereabouts,  was 
lighted,  and,  as  long  as  it  burned,  he  read  the  Bible  or 
some  other  holy  book.”  While  he  was  in  the  Orient,  he 
was  struck  with  the  richness  of  the  Saracen  libraries, 
and  accordingly  gathered  one  at  Paris  in  the  treasury 


503 


Medieval  Civilization 

of  his  chapel  and  opened  it  freely  to  his  friends.  There 
were  gathered  together,  above  all,  “the  original  works 
of  Augustine,  Ambrose,  Jerome,  and  Gregory,  and  of 
other  orthodox  doctors.”  For  he  read  by  preference 
“the  authentic  books  of  the  saints  rather  than  those  of 
the  masters  of  our  own  time.”  His  sacred  learning, 
thus  drawn  from  the  sources,  sometimes  enabled  him  to 
confound  arrogant  scholastic  erudition :  “A  learned 
clerk,”  Robert  de  Sorbon  relates,  “often  preached  before 
the  king  of  France.  He  had  just  said  the  following: 
‘All  the  apostles,  at  the  moment  of  the  passion,  aban¬ 
doned  Christ,  and  faith  was  extinguished  in  their  hearts ; 
the  Virgin  Mary  alone  preserved  it;  in  memory  of  this, 
in  the  holy  week,  at  the  matins  all  the  lights  are  extin¬ 
guished  except  one,  which  is  kept  for  lighting  the  others 
at  Easter.’  An  ecclesiastic  of  high  rank  then  rose  to 
question  the  orator  and  to  lead  him  to  affirm  only  what 
was  written :  the  apostles,  in  his  opinion,  had  abandoned 
Jesus  Christ  with  their  bodies  and  not  with  their  hearts. 
The  clerk  was  at  the  point  of  being  compelled  to  retract 
publicly,  when  the  king,  rising  in  his  turn,  intervened. 
‘The  proposition  is  not  false,’  he  said,  ‘it  is  in  the 
Fathers.  Bring  me  the  book  of  St.  Augustine.’  He 
was  obeyed,  and  the  king  showed  a  passage  in  the  com¬ 
mentary  upon  the  gospel  of  St.  John,  where,  in  fact, 
the  illustrious  doctor  expresses  himself  thus :  Fugerunt, 
relicto  eo  corde  et  corpore.  .  .”  Such  was  his  appetite 

for  apologetics  that,  in  company  with  grave  and  ortho¬ 
dox  persons,  Louis  IX  discussed  the  faith  even  at  table. 
He  often  invited  to  share  his  repast  some  “religious  or 
even  seculars,  with  whom  he  could  speak  of  God,  and 


504 


St.  Louis 

this  is  the  reason  why  he  did  not  often  dine  with  his 
barons.” 

It  is  certain  that  Louis  IX  was  sometimes  tormented 
by  the  antinomies  which  exist  between  reason  and  faith. 
According  to  the  testimony  of  Joinville,  he  strove  with 
all  his  might  “to  have  his  barons  believe  very  firmly” 
and  to  put  them  on  their  guard  against  these  temptations 
of  the  enemy  (he  avoided  naming  the  devil)  which  some¬ 
times  caused  doubt.  “The  devil  is  so  subtle  1  It  is  nec¬ 
essary  to  say  to  him :  ‘Avaunt ;  you  shall  not  tempt  me 
not  to  believe  firmly  all  the  articles  of  the  faith ;  you  can 
cut  me  in  pieces :  I  wish  to  live  and  die  in  this  condi¬ 
tion.’ ”  Nevertheless,  why  is  it  necessary  to  believe? 
On  this  point  the  king  one  day  asked  Joinville  what  his 
father’s  name  was.  The  seneschal  replied,  “Simon.” 
“And  how  do  you  know  it  ?”  “I  told  him  that  I  believed 
it  to  be  certain  because  my  mother  had  told  me.  Then 
he  said  to  me :  ‘Then  you  ought  to  believe  firmly  all  the 
articles  of  the  faith  that  the  apostles  bear  witness  to,  as 
you  hear  it  chanted  on  Sunday  in  the  creed.’  ”  It  is 
evident  that  the  good  king’s  critical  ability  was  not  very 
strong.  Nevertheless  it  was  awakened.  Did  he  not  say 
repeatedly  that  there  is  more  merit  in  believing  when 
doubt  has  arisen  than  in  believing  peaceably,  like  a  brute, 
without  combat?  He  had  himself  sustained  the  combat; 
he  had  issued  from  it  victorious ;  and,  although  sure  of 
the  triumph,  he  did  not  laugh  at  new  proofs.  He  loved 
to  hear  those  who  justified  the  faith,  not  those  who 
attacked  it. 

He  was  not  partial  to  the  discussions  of  Christians 
with  Jewish  rabbis,  which  the  doctors  of  the  thirteenth 


505 


Medieval  Civilization 

century  enjoyed  so  much.  Above  all,  he  disliked  such 
discussions  for  laymen,  who  risked  being  defeated  by 
the  dialecticians  of  the  synagogue.  “He  told  me,”  says 
Joinville,  “of  a  great  dispute  between  clerks  and  Jews 
at  the  monastery  of  Cluny.  A  knight,  who  was  a  guest 
at  the  monastery,  rose  and  asked  the  greatest  Jewish 
master  if  he  believed  that  the  Virgin  Mary  was  mother 
of  God.  The  Jew  replied  that  he  did  not  believe  it  at 
all.  ‘Then  you  are  a  fool,’  answered  the  knight,  ‘to  have 
come  into  her  house  without  believing  in  the  Holy  Vir¬ 
gin  and  without  loving  her.’  And  he  knocked  down  the 
Jew  with  a  blow  on  the  head  from  his  stick.  Thus  ended 
the  dispute.  .  .  .  ‘And  I  tell  you,’  added  the  king,  ‘that 
no  one,  if  he  is  not  a  very  good  clerk,  ought  to  dispute 
with  these  people ;  the  layman,  when  he  hears  the  Chris¬ 
tian  law  calumniated,  should  defend  it  with  his  sword, 
with  which  he  ought  to  give  as  many  blows  in  the  belly 
as  he  can  get  in.’  ” 

Louis  IX  felt  infinitely  more  at  his  ease  in  the  domain 
of  morals  than  in  that  of  the  historical  and  rational 
foundations  of  dogma.  From  his  early  youth  he  had 
had  a  taste  for  moralizing.  When  he  was  atdicted  with 
a  malignant  fever  at  Pontoise,  while  still  young,  and 
believed  that  he  was  going  to  die,  he  “called  his  associ¬ 
ates  and  admonished  them  to  serve  God.”  “When  he 
was  in  his  room  with  his  suite,”  reports  the  Confessor 
of  Queen  Marguerite,  “he  said  holy  and  discreet  words 
and  told  beautiful  stories  for  the  edification  of  those  who 
were  conversing  with  him.”  “Before  going  to  bed,” 
says  Joinville,  “he  summoned  his  children,  and  reminded 
them  of  the  deeds  of  good  kings  and  good  emperors, 

506 


St.  Louis 

and  told  them  to  follow  these  examples,  and  he  told  them 
also  the  deeds  of  bad,  wealthy  men  who,  by  their  luxury, 
rapine,  and  avarice,  had  lost  their  kingdoms.”  During 
the  expedition  to  Egypt  and  Syria,  he  had  made  of  Join- 
ville  one  of  his  catechumens.  Nevertheless,  he  did  not 
speak  to  him  willingly  concerning  matters  of  the  faith, 
for  the  “subtle  sense,”  that  is,  the  good  common-sense 
of  the  seneschal  of  Champagne  frightened  him.  But 
with  a  greater  abundance  he  showered  on  him  advice  in 
practical  morals.  The  seneschal  was  certainly  not  a  bad 
man,  but  he  had  his  faults,  and  rather  grave  ones.  He 
drank  his  wine  undiluted,  and  “always  the  best  to  be 
had.”  Alive  to  the  joys  of  life,  he  cared  for  money  which 
procures  them,  and,  although  perfectly  brave,  he  exposed 
his  person  only  when  circumstances  were  propitious. 
Proud  of  his  rank,  he  had  some  difficulty  in  thinking  of 
villains  as  his  brethren  in  Christ.  Finally,  a  faithful  but 
lukewarm  Christian,  he  said  unhesitatingly  that  “he 
would  prefer  to  have  committed  thirty  mortal  sins  rather 
than  to  be  a  leper.”  The  king,  who  had  taken  a  liking 
to  him  because  of  his  amiable  and  frank  character,  ex¬ 
horted  him  to  be  temperate,  polite,  patient,  to  shudder  at 
sin,  and  to  profit  by  the  warnings  of  God.  The  triteness 
of  these  maxims  was  atoned  for  by  the  acuteness  of 
their  expression.  If  he  said  that  one  must  not  take  the 
goods  of  others,  even  to  give  them  to  God,  the  king 
added :  “for  rendering  them  is  so  painful  that,  even  in 
saying  the  word,  render  excoriates  the  throat,  because  of 
the  r’s  in  it,  which  signify  the  rakes  of  the  devil,  who 
always  draws  backward  toward  himself  those  who  wish 
to  render  property  wrongly  acquired.”  William  of  Char- 


507 


Medieval  Civilization 

tres  has  also  recorded  a  rather  amusing  anecdote.  It 
was  during  the  sitting  of  a  parlement.  A  lady,  formerly 
beautiful,  but  of  ripe  age,  very  carefully  dressed,  en¬ 
tered  the  king’s  chamber,  in  the  hope,  as  they  thought, 
of  attracting  his  attention.  “But  the  king,  preoccupied,” 
as  William  of  Chartres  said,  “with  the  salvation  of  this 
lady,  called  for  his  confessor  and  said  to  him  very 
quietly :  ‘Sit  there  and  hear  what  I  am  going  to  say  to 
this  woman,  who  wishes  to  speak  to  me  in  private.’ 
When  the  three  were  alone,  Louis  IX  went  on :  ‘Madam, 
I  should  like  to  have  you  think  of  your  salvation.  For¬ 
merly  you  were  beautiful,  but  that  which  is  past  is  past. 
Sicut  flos  qui  statim  emarcuit,  et  non  durat.  You  will 
not  resuscitate  that  beauty  of  yours ;  exert  therefore  all 
your  efforts  to  acquire  the  imperishable  beauty,  not  of 
the  body,  but  of  the  soul.’  ” 

This  severe  and  playful  moralist  had  more  simple, 
natural  goodness  than  moralists  ordinarily  have.  The 
Confessor  of  Queen  Marguerite  says  that  his  heart  was 
“transpierced  with  pity  for  the  wretched”  and  that  he 
had  a  predilection  for  the  weak.  We  read  in  his  Instruc¬ 
tions  to  his  son :  “If  a  poor  man  contends  against  a 
wealthy,  support  the  poor  rather  than  the  wealthy  until 
the  truth  has  been  made  known.”  But,  still  better  than 
by  these  general  statements,  the  goodness  of  the  man 
truly  good,  good  and  gay,  is  often  shown  by  a  common 
act,  by  a  gesture  which  leaves  no  doubt.  His  contempo¬ 
raries  have  drawn  from  life  incontrovertible  sketches  of 
some  typical  scenes.  As  always,  Joinville  has  left  the 
prettiest  anecdotes,  those  of  Corbeil  and  Acre. 

At  Corbeil,  in  Pentecost,  the  seneschal  and  Robert  de 

508 


St.  Louis 

Sorbon  had  fallen  into  a  dispute  in  the  presence  of  Louis 
IX.  Master  Robert,  accusing  the  seneschal  of  being  too 
well-dressed,  had  drawn  upon  himself  this  retort :  “Mas¬ 
ter  Robert,  begging  your  pardon,  I  am  not  to  blame  if  I 
dress  in  vair,  for  this  costume  was  left  to  me  by  my 
father  and  mother,  but  you  are  to  blame,  for  you  are  the 
son  of  peasants  and  you  have  abandoned  the  costume  of 
your  father  and  are  dressed  in  richer  camelin  than  the 
king  is.”  “And  then,”  adds  Joinville,  “I  took  the  skirt 
of  his  coat  and  of  the  king’s  coat,  and  said  to  him,  ‘See 
if  that  is  not  true’ ;  and  then  the  king  strove  to  defend 
Master  Robert  with  all  his  might.”  But  the  good  king, 
seeing  the  sadness  of  the  seneschal,  was  not  slow  to  ask 
him  to  sit  down  so  near  him,  “that  my  coat  touched  his,” 
and  admitted,  to  console  him,  that  he  had  been  wrong  in 
defending  poor  Master  Robert :  “But  I  saw  that  he  was 
so  confused  that  he  had  great  need  of  my  aid.” 

At  St.  Jean  d’Acre,  in  a  council  held  to  discuss  the 
question  whether  they  should  return  to  France  or  remain 
in  the  Holy  Land,  Joinville,  almost  alone,  spoke  against 
returning.  “When  the  session  ended,  the  assault  on  me 
began  from  all  sides :  ‘The  king  is  foolish,  Sire  de  Join¬ 
ville,  if  he  listens  to  you  against  the  council  of  the  whole 
kingdom  of  France.’  When  the  tables  were  set,  the  king 
made  me  sit  beside  him  to  eat,  as  he  always  did  if  his 
brothers  were  not  there,  but  he  did  not  speak  to  me  while 
the  meal  lasted,  which  was  contrary  to  his  custom.  And 
I  truly  thought  that  he  was  angry  with  me  because  I  had 
advised  him  to  spend  his  money  freely.  While  he  heard 
grace,  I  went  to  a  barred  window,  which  was  in  a  dis¬ 
tant  corner  near  the  king’s  bed,  and  I  rested  my  arms 


509 


Medieval  Civilization 

upon  the  bars  of  the  window  and  thought  tha-t,  if  the 
king  returned  to  France,  I  would  go  to  the  prince  of 
Antioch,  my  kinsman,  until  our  companions  who  were 
prisoners  in  Egypt  had  been  delivered;  and,  while  I  was 
there,  the  king  came  to  lean  upon  my  shoulders  and 
placed  his  two  hands  upon  my  head.  I  supposed  that  it 
was  my  lord  Philip  of  Nemours  and  said :  ‘Let  me  alone, 
my  lord  Philip.’  But,  by  chance  turning  my  head,  the 
king’s  hands  glided  over  my  face  and  I  recognized  the 
emerald  which  he  had  on  his  finger.  And  he  said  to  me : 
‘Keep  quiet,  for  I  wish  to  ask  you  how  you,  although  a 
young  man,  were  so  bold  as  to  dare  to  advise  my  remain¬ 
ing  here,  in  opposition  to  all  the  nobles  and  wise  men  of 
France,  who  advised  me  to  return.’  ‘Do  you  say,’  he 
asked,  ‘that  I  would  be  wrong  if  I  went  away?’  ‘Yes, 
indeed,  sire,’  I  replied ;  and  he  said  to  me,  ‘If  I  remain, 
will  you  remain?’  And  when  I  said  yes:  ‘Now  be  at 
ease,  for  I  am  much  pleased  with  your  advice ;  but  do 
not  tell  anyone  this  week.’  ” 

So  much  goodness,  so  much  juvenile  and  charming 
delicacy  is  often  united  to  feebleness.  According  to 
Geoffrey  of  Beaulieu,  certain  people  were  afraid,  in 
fact,  that  such  a  good  man  would  be  a  weak  man;  but 
these  fears  were  not  well-founded.  Not  only  was  St. 
Louis  an  accomplished  knight  in  war,  but,  in  addition, 
he  always  gave  proof  of  unusual  energy  in  the  conduct 
of  his  private  and  public  life. 

Joinville  saw  him  and  depicts  him  during  the  cam¬ 
paign  in  Egypt  and  the  stay  in  Syria,  at  first  as  rash  as 
a  young  man  and  then  heroic  in  adversity.  Before  Da- 
mietta,  “when  the  king  heard  that  the  standard  of  St. 

510 


St.  Louis 

Denis  was  down,  he  ran  across  the  bridge  of  his  vessel 
with  great  strides,  and,  in  spite  of  the  legate,  in  order  to 
save  the  standard,  he  leaped  into  the  sea  when  the  water 
came  to  his  armpits,  and  with  his  shield  around  his  neck, 
his  helmet  upon  his  head,  his  sword  in  his  hand,  he  went 
to  his  men  who  were  on  the  shore.  When  he  saw  the 
Saracens,  he  asked  who  they  were  and  was  told  that  they 
were  Saracens.  Then,  with  his  sword  under  his  arm  and 
his  shield  in  front  of  him,  he  would  have  rushed  upon 
this  mob,  if  the  prud’hommes  who  accompanied  him  had 
not  prevented  it.”  During  the  lamentable  retreat  which 
followed  the  battle  of  Mansourah,  his  conduct  was  ex¬ 
emplary,  although  he  was  suffering  from  the  epidemic 
which  was  ravaging  the  army.  “Sire,”  his  brother, 
Charles  of  Anjou,  said  to  him,  “you  are  wrong  in  not 
following  the  advice  which  your  friends  gave  and  in 
refusing  to  go  on  shipboard,  for,  while  you  are  on  land, 
the  army’s  march  is  dangerously  retarded.”  “Count  of 
Anjou,  Count  of  Anjou,”  he  replied,  “if  I  am  a  burden 
to  you,  get  rid  of  me ;  but  I  will  never  abandon  my  peo¬ 
ple.”  When  a  prisoner  of  the  sultan  and  then  of  the 
emirs,  he  surprised  them  by  his  coolness.  Facing  the 
bloody  sword  of  Faress-eddin-Oct-ai,  he  did  not  experi¬ 
ence  the  indescribable  fright  of  Joinville,  when  he  saw 
the  huge  Danish  axes  which  the  followers  of  this  emir 
bore.  When  he  was  returning,  the  vessel  on  which  the 
king  was,  ran  on  a  shoal  near  Cyprus.  The  sailors  ad¬ 
vised  him  to  get  on  board  another  vessel.  He  refused, 
with  a  calm  intrepidity  which  was  not  shared  by  the 
famous  Olivier  de  Termes,  one  of  the  most  valiant 
knights  of  his  time,  who,  “from  fear  of  drowning,”  was 

5ii 


Medieval  Civilization 

absolutely  determined  to  disembark.  “My  lords,”  said 
the  king  to  the  masters  of  the  vessel,  “I  have  heard  your 
advice  and  that  of  my  people.  Now  I  ’ll  tell  you  mine, 
which  is  this :  if  I  leave  this  vessel,  here  are  five  hundred 
persons  and  more  who  will  remain  in  Cyprus  for  fear  of 
their  life  (for  everyone  values  his  life  just  as  much  as  I 
do  mine)  and  who  never,  perhaps,  will  see  their  country 
again.  I  prefer  to  place  my  body  and  my  wife  and  my 
children  in  the  hands  of  God  rather  than  to  do  such 
damage  to  the  people  here.” 

Magnanimity  in  the  presence  of  danger  is  one  form  of 
energy ;  it  is  not  the  least  common.  Louis  IX,  who,  in 
grave  circumstances,  naturally  rose  to  heroism,  gave 
proof,  on  every  occasion,  of  a  strong  will.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  he  had  the  imperious  disposition  of  his  mother, 
of  his  father,  and  of  his  grandfather,  Philip  Augustus. 
The  mawkish  legend  of  the  angelic  benignity  of  St. 
Louis  is  contradicted  by  positive  facts.  Joinville,  the 
clear-seeing  and  talkative  confidant,  does  not  leave  us  in 
ignorance  of  the  fact  that  the  king  was  apt  to  get  angry. 
Joinville  said  gayly  to  him  at  Caesarea,  when  it  was  a 
question  of  prolonging  the  engagement  which  bound  the 
seneschal  of  Champagne  to  the  royal  service :  “As  you 
get  angry  when  anyone  asks  something  of  you,  agree 
that,  if  I  demand  something  this  year,  you  will  not  be 
angry,  and,  if  you  refuse,  I  shall  not  be  angry.”  The 
king  laughed  very  merrily ;  but  the  seneschal  had  -hit  the 
the  mark.  Many  anecdotes  bear  witness  to  this.  During 
the  journey  from  Egypt  to  Palestine,  “the  king  com¬ 
plained  of  the  count  of  Anjou,  who  was  in  his  vessel 
and  did  not  keep  him  company.  One  day  he  asked  what 

512 


St.  Louis 

the  count  of  Anjou  was  doing,  and  was  told  that  the 
latter  was  playing  at  tables  with  my  lord  Gautier  of 
Nemours;  and  he  went  there  all  in  a  tremble,  because  of 
his  feebleness  from  sickness,  and  took  the  dice  and  threw 
them  into  the  sea,  and  he  was  very  angry  with  his  brother 
because  the  latter  had  gone  back  to  shaking  dice.  But 
my  lord  Gautier  got  the  best  of  it,  for  he  gathered  up 
all  the  pennies  that  were  on  the  board  (of  which  he  made 
a  great  harvest)  and  carried  them  off.” 

Everyone  knew  so  well  that  Louis  was  irritable  that, 
when  Queen  Marguerite  gave  birth  to  her  first-born,  a 
daughter,  and  they  thought  that  the  king  was  hoping  for 
a  son,  no  one  dared  to  be  the  messenger  to  tell  him  the 
news.  It  is  true  that  the  witnesses  heard  during  the 
process  of  canonization  eulogized  his  indulgence  to  his 
domestics,  but  Joinville  saw  him  at  Hyeres  in  Provence 
“very  hotly  attack”  Pons  the  squire,  an  old  servant,  be¬ 
cause  he  had  not  brought  the  king’s  horse  on  time.  The 
king  was  aware,  moreover,  of  the  violence  of  his  own 
character,  and  he  often  succeeded  in  overcoming  it.  The 
anecdotes  about  his  clemency  show  that  it  astonished 
his  people,  and  that  the  king’s  patient  demeanor  was  the 
fruit  of  internal  struggles. 

Louis  IX,  accustomed  to  command,  was  imperious. 
When  Joinville  intervened  in  order  that  Pons  the  squire 
should  not  be  corrected  so  sharply  for  such  a  small  fault : 
“Seneschal,”  Louis  replied  to  him,  “King  Philip,  my 
ancestor,  said  that  it  was  necessary  to  reward  people 
according  to  their  merits.”  And  he  added,  ad  hominem : 
“King  Philip  also  said  that  no  one  can  govern  his  land 
well  if  he  does  not  know  how  to  refuse  as  boldly  and  as 


513 


Medieval  Civilization 

rigorously  as  he  knows  how  to  give.  And  I  tell  you 
these  things  because  the  world  is  so  greedy  in  asking 
that  few  people  consider  the  salvation  of  their  souls  or 
the  honor  of  their  bodies,  provided  they  can  get  posses¬ 
sion  of  other  people’s  property,  rightly  or  wrongfully.” 
He  knew,  in  truth,  how  to  refuse  and  how  to  punish 
sharply,  as  well  as,  or  even  better  than,  his  ancestors, 
and,  if  he  was  certain  that  he  was  in  the  right,  either  in 
great  matters  or  small,  nothing  moved  him.  “Be  strict,” 
he  counsels  his  son,  “strict  and  loyal  in  doing  justice  and 
right  to  your  subjects,  without  turning  to  the  right  or 
to  the  left.”  And  everyone  felt  the  effect  of  his  deci¬ 
sions— his  family,  his  friends,  his  barons,  his  bishops, 
for,  following  the  expression  of  the  Confessor,  he  was 
no  respecter  of  persons. 

Charles,  count  of  Anjou,  had  imprisoned  a  knight, 
who  had  appealed,  as  was  his  right,  from  the  court  of 
Anjou  to  the  court  of  France.  Louis  summoned  Charles 
and  said  to  him :  “There  ought  to  be  only  one  king  of 
France,  and  do  not  think,  because  I  am  your  brother, 
that  I  shall  spare  you,  contrary  to  strict  justice.”  En- 
guerran,  sire  of  Coucy,  had  hanged  three  young  people 
who  were  hunting  in  his  woods.  Louis  condemned  him 
severely  and  shut  him  up  in  the  Louvre.  Thereupon  a 
noble,  John  of  Tourote,  furious  at  such  contempt  for 
the  privileges  of  the  nobility,  cried  out:  “The  king  will 
be  hanging  us  next !”  The  king  heard  him  and  although 
he  had  paid  no  attention  to  similar  remarks  from  a  hum¬ 
bler  person,  he  sent  officials  to  arrest  the  offender. 
When  the  latter  was  kneeling,  he  said :  “What  do  you 
say,  John— that  I  will  have  my  barons  hanged?  Cer- 


5*4 


St.  Louis 

tainly  I  shall  not  hang  them,  but  I  shall  punish  them  if 
they  do  wrong.”  In  this  affair  of  the  sire  of  Coucy, 
the  king  of  Navarre,  the  count  of  Brittany,  the  countess 
of  Flanders,  and  very  many  others,  prayed  the  king  in 
vain  to  release  the  guilty  person.  He,  “indignant  be¬ 
cause  they  appeared  to  be  forming  a  conspiracy  against 
his  honor,  rose  without  replying  to  them.” 

Another  time,  Guy,  bishop  of  Auxerre,  in  the  name  of 
all  the  prelates  of  France,  declared  to  him  that  “Chris¬ 
tianity  was  perishing  at  his  hands.”  The  king  crossed 
himself  when  he  heard  this,  and  said,  “How  is  that?” 
“Sire,”  replied  the  bishop,  “to-day  people  mock  at  ex- 
communications.  Command  your  provosts  and  bailiffs 
to  compel  under  penalty  of  confiscation  of  their  prop¬ 
erty,  all  those  who  remained  under  the  ban  of  ex- 
communication  for  a  year  and  a  day  to  get  absolu¬ 
tion.”  The  king  responded  to  this,  without  taking 
counsel  of  anyone,  that  he  would  willingly  grant  this 
request,  on  condition  that  he  should  be  permitted  to 
ascertain  whether  the  sentence  of  excommunication  had 
been  pronounced  justly.  And  he  said,  “I  give  you,  as  an 
example,  the  count  of  Brittany,  who,  an  excommunicate, 
has  pleaded  seven  years  against  the  prelates  of  Brittany. 
It  has  finally  resulted  in  the  pope’s  condemning  the  prel¬ 
ates.  If  I  had  compelled  the  count  to  get  absolved  at 
the  end  of  the  first  year,  I  should  have  done  wrong  to 
him  and  in  the  sight  of  God.”  He  often  received  the 
requests  of  the  bishops  in  the  same  way.  “At  a  parle- 
ment,”  recounts  Joinville,  “the  prelates  asked  the  king 
to  come  all  alone  and  speak  to  them.  When  he  returned, 
he  told  us,  who  were  waiting  for  him  in  the  chamber  of 


515 


Medieval  Civilization 

pleas,  the  torment  that  he  had  had.  First  the  archbishop 
of  Reims  had  addressed  him  thus:  ‘Sire,  what  will  you 
give  me  in  return  for  the  guardianship  of  St.  Remi  of 
Reims,  which  you  have  taken  from  me,  for,  by  the  saints 
of  this  district,  I  would  n’t  wish  to  have  committed  such 
a  sin  as  you  have  done,  for  all  the  kingdom  of  France.’ 
‘By  the  saints  of  this  district,’  said  the  king,  ‘you  would 
do  it  willingly  for  Compiegne,  because  of  the  greed 
which  is  in  you.’  The  bishop  of  Chartres,  in  turn,  had 
been  put  down  in  these  terms :  ‘He  required  me  to  give 
back  to  him  his  property  which  I  held.  I  said  to  him 
that  I  would  not  do  it  at  all  until  I  had  been  paid ;  that 
he  was  my  vassal ;  and  that  he  was  conducting'  himself 
neither  well  nor  loyally  toward  me  when  he  wished  to 
disinherit  me.’  Finally,  the  bishop  of  Chalons  had 
spoken,  in  order  to  complain  of  Joinville.  ‘My  lord 
bishop,’  said  the  king,  ‘you  have  agreed  among  you 
that  an  excommunicated  person  ought  not  to  be  heard 
in  a  lay  court,  and  I  have  seen  letters  sealed  with  thirty- 
two  seals,  that  you  are  excommunicated ;  accordingly,  I 
shall  not  listen  to  you  until  you  have  been  absolved’.” 
“And  I  tell  you  these  things,”  adds  the  seneschal  of 
Champagne,  “in  order  that  you  may  see  clearly  how  he 
delivered  himself  all  alone,  by  his  own  good  sense,  of 
that  which  he  had  to  do.” 

The  good  sense  of  Louis  IX,  which  Joinville  also 
called  his  wisdom,  was,  in  fact,  as  strong  as  his  will. 
His  attitude  toward  his  councils  and  counselors  is  re¬ 
markable.  “Never  was  anyone  so  wise  in  his  council  as 
he.  .  .  .  When  they  spoke  to  him  of  anything,  he  did  not 
say,  ‘I  will  consider  it;’  but,  when  hq  saw  the  right  per- 

516 


St.  Louis 

fectly  clearly,  he  responded  without  his  council,  unhesi¬ 
tatingly.”  It  was  not  because  he  wished  to  act  as  an 
autocrat  without  consulting  anyone.  On  the  contrary, 
like  a  true  feudal  king,  he  often  asked  the  advice  of  his 
barons  and  of  his  suite.  But  he  did  not  restrict  himself 
to  following  their  advice.  In  suits  to  which  he  was  a 
party,  he  guarded  himself  against  the  probable  com¬ 
placency  of  his  followers.  In  his  Instructions  we  read : 
“If  anyone  has  a  quarrel  against  you,  be  always  for  him 
and  against  yourself  until  the  truth  is  known,  for  thus 
your  counselors  will  judge  more  boldly,  according  to 
right  and  truth.”  The  history  of  Matthew  of  Trie  brings 
out  his  scruples  in  this  respect  very  clearly.  “My  lord 
Matthew  of  Trie  brought  the  king  a  letter,  a  donation 
made  recently  by  the  said  king  to  the  father  of  the  coun¬ 
tess  of  Boulogne  of  the  county  of  Dammartin-en-Goele. 
The  seal  of  the  letter  was  broken,  and  he  showed  it  to 
us,  who  were  members  of  his  council,  so  that  we  might 
aid  him  with  our  advice.  We  all  declared  that  he  was 
in  no  way  held  to  recognize  the  validity  of  this  letter, 
but  he  said  to  us,  ‘My  lords,  this  is  a  seal  which  I  used 
before  I  went  beyond  the  seas.  It  is  clear  that  the  im¬ 
print  of  the  broken  seal  is  like  the  entire  seal ;  here  is  a 
copy;  therefore  I  would  not  dare  conscientiously  to  re¬ 
tain  the  said  county.’  Then  he  called  my  lord  Matthew 
of  Trie,  and  said  to  him,  ‘I  restore  the  county  to  you.’  ” 
Joinville  has  vividly  depicted  the  great  council  held  at 
Acre,  in  1250,  to  consider  returning  to  France,  where 
he  himself,  supported  only  by  the  sire  of  Chatenai,  op¬ 
posed  the  opinion  of  the  majority.  The  king  listened 
attentively,  called  those  who  interrupted  to  order,  and 


517 


Medieval  Civilization 

said :  “My  lords,  I  have  heard  you  very  carefully,  and  I 
shall  reply,  on  such  a  day,  what  it  is  pleasing  to  me  to 
do.”  Then  he  gave  his  answer,  with  his  reasons,  without 
considering  the  votes.  He  often  intervened  without  de¬ 
lay  to  settle  or  redress  a  matter:  “Many  a  time  it  hap¬ 
pened  that  he  went  and  seated  himself  in  the  forest  of 
Vincennes,  in  summer,  after  mass,  at  the  foot  of  an  oak, 
and  ha'd  us  sit  around  him,  and  all  who  had  business 
came  to  speak  to  him  without  any  hindrance  from  officials 
or  anyone  else.  He  said,  ‘All  be  silent.  Your  matters 
will  be  attended  to  one  after  another.’  And  he  called  ' 
my  lord  Pierre  de  Fontaines  and  my  lord  Geoffrey  de 
Villette,  and  said  to  one  of  them,  ‘Finish  up  this  business 
for  me.’  And  when  he  saw  something  to  amend  in  the 
speech  of  those  who  spoke  for  him,  he  corrected  it  with 
his  own  mouth.”  Moreover,  although  obstinate,  he  was 
a  man  who  allowed  himself  to  be  convinced.  It  seems 
that  he  renounced  the  project  of  abdicating  and  entering 
a  monastery  when  he  was  shown  its  inconveniences. 
Sometimes,  even,  he  accepted  lessons  gracefully ;  and 
Joinville  had  the  chance  to  give  him  some  very  clever 
ones.  “While  the  king  was  staying  at  Hyeres,  attempt¬ 
ing  to  procure  some  horses  for  the  return  to  France,  the 
abbot  of  Cluny  made  him  a  present  of  two  palfreys, 
which  to-day  would  certainly  be  worth  five  hundred 
livres— one  for  him  and  one  for  the  queen.  The  follow¬ 
ing  day  this  abbot  returned  to  speak  of  his  business  to 
the  king,  who  heard  him  very  diligently  and  at  great 
length.  When  he  had  gone,  I  said  to  the  king :  ‘I  want 
to  ask  you,  if  you  please,  if  you  have  heard  the  abbot  of 
Cluny  more  courteously  because  he  gave  you  those  two 

518 


St.  Louis 

palfreys  yesterday.’  He  thought  and  said,  ‘To  be  sure.’ 
‘Sire,’  said  I,  ‘do  you  know  why  I  asked  you  this  ques¬ 
tion?’  ‘Why?’  replied  he.  ‘In  order,  sire,  that  when 
you  return  to  France  you  may  forbid  all  your  sworn 
council  to  take  anything  from  people  who  have  cases 
before  you.  For  be  sure  that,  if  they  take  anything,  they 
will  listen  more  willingly  and  more  diligently  to  those 
who  give,  just  as  you  did  to  the  abbot  of  Cluny.’  Then 
the  king  called  all  his  counselors  and  told  them  what  I 
had  said,  and  they  said  I  had  given  him  good  advice.” 

To  sum  up,  Louis  IX  can  be  held  responsible  for  the 
policy  he  followed.  He  did  what  he  wanted  to  do.  But 
what  did  he  want  to  do  ?  What  were  his  political  ideals  ? 

Certainly  no  man  charged  with  governing  men  ever 
had  more  upright  intentions.  “The  great  love  which  he 
felt  for  his  people,”  says  Joinville,  “appears  clearly  in 
what  he  said  to  my  lord  Louis,  his  eldest  son,  during  a 
very  severe  sickness  at  Fontainebleau  :  ‘My  dear  son,  I 
pray  you  that  you  make  yourself  loved  by  the  people  of 
your  kingdom,  for,  truly,  I  should  prefer  that  a  Scot 
should  come  from  Scotland,  and  govern  the  kingdom 
well  and  loyally,  rather  than  that  you  should  govern  it 
badly.’  ” 

What  he  meant  by  governing  well,  Louis  IX  himself 
has  declared  in  his  spiritual  will,  addressed  to  the  future 
Philip  III :  Retain  nothing  from  the  goods  or  rights  of 
another ;  watch  that  your  subjects  live  in  peace  and  up¬ 
rightness  ;  make  war  on  Christians  only  in  the  last  ex¬ 
tremity  ;  appease  quarrels,  “as  St.  Martin  did” ;  prevent 
sin  and  heresy  in  your  presence.  For  the  royal  dignity 
was,  in  his  eyes,  according  to  the  expression  of  William 

519 


Medieval  Civilization 

of  Chartres,  a  true  “priesthood.”  He  guided  himself 
thus  by  the  light  of  two  ideas :  that  of  right  and  that  of 
salvation.  “More  preoccupied  than  one  would  believe 
with  the  eternal  salvation  of  souls,”  it  appeared  to  him 
natural  to  punish  as  crimes  public  sins :  blasphemy, 
usury,  prostitution  and  heresy,  and  to  sacrifice  every¬ 
thing,  in  spite  of  the  evident  repugnance  of  his  people, 
to  the  crusades  beyond  the  sea's.  Imbued  with  the  no¬ 
tion,  more  feudal  still  than  Christian,  “to  each  one  his 
own,”  he  did  not  think  that  encroachment  upon  the 
acquired  rights  of  the  neighbor,  spoliation  and  theft, 
which  were  forbidden  to  private  persons  by  common 
morality,  were  made  legitimate  by  reasons  of  state.  To 
unjust  pretensions,  that  is  to  say,  the  illegal  and  novel 
pretensions^  either  of  the  emperor  or  of  the  pope,  he 
knew  how  to  set  up  a  barrier'  quietly  in  defense  of  his 
own  right,  but  every  conquest,  in  his  eyes  was  odious. 
So  greatly  did  he  esteem  the  blessing  of  peace  that,  in 
several  cases,  he  consented  to  sacrifices  in  order  to  pro¬ 
cure  it  for"  his  awn  country  and  for  his  neighbors.  It 
was  a  principle  with  him  to  reconcile  his  adversaries 
instead  of  profiting  by  their  quarrels.  “With  regard  to 
these  foreigners  whom  the  king  had  appeased,  some  of 
his  council  said  to  him  that  he  did  not  do  well,  that  he 
ought  to  let  them  war,  for,  if  he  allowed  them  to  impov¬ 
erish  themselves,  they  would  not  attack  him  as  they  could 
do  if  they  were  very  rich.  And  the  king  said  that  his 
counselors  were  wrong.  ‘For,  if  the  neighboring  princes 
saw  that  I  let  them  war,  they  would  attack  me  because 
of  the  hatred  which  they  had  against  me,  so  that  I  might 
well  lose,  without  taking  into  account  that  I  should  de- 


520 


St.  Louis 

serve  the  hatred  of  God,  who  has  said,  ‘Blessed  are  the 
peacemakers.’  ” 

Practised  two  hundred  years  earlier,  the  charitable 
policy  of  St.  Louis  might,  perchance,  have  kept  the 
French  monarchy  in  its  original  mediocrity,  but,  in  the 
thirteenth  century,  the  Capetian  dynasty  was  already 
strong  enough  to  afford  the  costly  luxury  of  an  idealistic 
prince.  Louis  IX  has  no  reason  to  repent  having  pro¬ 
cured  for  France,  between  the  terrible  ages  of  Philip 
Augustus  and  Philip  the  Fair,  the  repose  of  a  pacific  and 
just  reign.  He  was  honored  and  he  was  feared.  “They 
feared  him,”  said  William  of  Chartres,  speaking  of  the 
barons  of  France,  “because  they  knew  that  he  was  just.” 
He  is  perhaps  the  only  king,  who  was  an  honorable  man, 
and  was  respected  in  his  own  lifetime,  and  yet  has  been 
placed,  after  his  death,  in  the  list  of  great  kings. 

It  is  certain,  however,  that',  by  his  simplicity,  by  his 
ingenuousness,  and  by  his  ignorance,  resulting  from  his 
perfect  sanctity,  he  committed  grave  faults. 

The  whole  campaign  in  Egypt  was  planned  for  and 
carried  out  with  rentarkable  maladroitness.  King  Haa¬ 
kon,  of  Norway,  whom  Louis  hoped  to  lead  across  the 
sea,  deceived  him.  At  Cyprus,  in  1248,  there  arrived  in 
the  camp  of  the  Franks  the  ambassadors  of  the  khan  of 
the  Tartars,  the  emperor  of  China  and  an  enemy  of  the 
Mussulmans,  who  offered  to  help  the  Christians  vanquish 
the  sultan  of  Egypt  and  conquer  Syria.  The  king  re¬ 
ceived  them  “very  debonairly,”  and  thought  of  no  better 
plan  than  sending  to  the  khan,  by  the  monk,  Rubruquis, 
“a  scarlet  tent,  made  in  the  shape  of  a  chapel,  in  which 
were  displayed,  by  images,  the  annunciation  of  our  Lady 


52i 


Medieval  Civilization 

and  all  the  other  matters  of  the  faith;  ...  a  chalice, 
books,  and  everything  necessary  for  chanting  mass he 
wished  this  “to  lead  the  Tartars  to  our  belief,”  and  the 
monks,  bearers  of  this  chapel,  were  charged  to  show  the 
khan  “how  he  ought  to  believe.”  By  this  action,  he 
brought  upon  himself  a  very  cavalier  response,  and  Mus¬ 
sulman  Syria  was  saved.  Between  Damietta  and  Man- 
sourah,  and  during  the  retreat,  the  chief  of  the  army 
constantly  made  mistakes.  The  accounts  of  witnesses 
like  Joinville,  show  it  clearly.  Louis  IX  never  under¬ 
stood  the  Orient  or  Islam  at  all :  when  he  was  captured 
by  the  Mussulmans,  the  absurd  rumor  spread  among  the 
crusaders  that  the  emirs  were  going  to  elect  the  French 
king,  their  prisoner,  to  the  office  of  the  defunct  sultan. 
When  asked  by  Joinville  if  he  would  have  accepted  the 
“kingdom  of  Babylon”  if  he  had  had  the  chance,  he  de¬ 
clared  that  “truly,  he  would  not  have  refused  it.”  But  it 
was  in  1269  especially,  that  the  zeal  of  Louis  IX  for 
propaganda  blinded  him  and  that  the  excess  of  his  ingen¬ 
uousness  was  clearly  revealed.  “Those  who  advised  him 
to  make  the  voyage  to  Tunis,”  says  Joinville,  “committed 
a  mortal  sin.”  The  expedition  to  Tunis,  this  second 
crusade  attempted  against  the  advice  of  the  wise  men, 
without  any  chance  of  success,  was,  in  fact,  disastrous 
both  to  France  and  to  the  cause  of  the  Holy  Land.  Now, 
Louis  IX  went  to  Tunis  because  he  believed,  in  good 
faith,  that  the  prince  of  that  country,  El  Mostanssir, 
wanted  to  become  a  Christian.  He  said :  “Oh !  that  I 
might  be  the  godfather  of  such  a  godson !”  In  the  pres¬ 
ence  of  the  envoys  of  this  barbarian  potentate,  who  were 
presented  to  him  at  Paris,  he  said  effusively:  “Say  to 

522 


St.  Louis 

your  master  that  I  desire  so  strongly  the  salvation  of  his 
soul  that  I  would  willingly  consent  to  stay  in  the  prisons 
of  the  Saracens  all  the  days  of  my  life,  without  ever 
seeing  the  clear  sky,  if  he  might  be  converted,  if  only 
your  king  and  his  people  might  become  Christians.”  It 
is  generally  agreed  that  St.  Louis  was,  in  this  matter, 
“too  credulous.” 


523 


The  Relation  of  Antiquity  to  the 
Renaissance 

Adapted  from  Carl  Neumann:  Byzantinische  Kultur  und 
Renaissancekultur,  in  Historische  Zeitschrift , 

Vol.  XCI,  1903,  pp.  215-232. 

JACOB  BURCKHARDT’S  celebrated  book,  The  Civ¬ 
ilisation  of  the  Renaissance  in  Italy,  which  was  first 
published  in  i860,  has  done  much  to  color  our  views  on 
the  Renaissance.  Since. its  appearance  the  opinion  has 
quite  generally  prevailed  that  the  Renaissance  was  the 
mother  of  modern  civilization,  that  the  Italians  were  the 
first-born  people  of  a  modern  world,  and  that  all  this  was 
due  to  the  passionate  zeal  with  which  they  overleaped  the 
Middle  Ages  and  sought,  with  success,  to  link  themselves 
again  to  the  ancient  world.  The  way  had  long  been  pre¬ 
pared  for  this  opinion  by  the  neo-humanism  of  the  late 
eighteenth  century.  There  is  a  remarkable  work  in  Ger¬ 
man,  written  in  1785,  which  is  saturated  with  the  purest 
spirit  of  the  Renaissance.  In  this  book,  better  than  in 
any  historical  romance  of  later  date,  in  which  the  costume 
may  be  truer,  but  not  the  characters  or  events,  there  lives 
the  unfettered,  daring,  voluptuous  and  unscrupulous 
spirit  of  the  Italian  Renaissance,  which  strove,  with  ti¬ 
tanic  energy,  to  bring  down  happiness  and  enjoyment 
and  everything  good  to  this  earth  and  hold  them  fast. 


524 


Relation  of  Antiquity  to  Renaissance 

This  book  is  Wilhelm  Heinse’s  romance,  Ardinghello  und 
die  gliickseligen  Inseln. 

Then  came  Goethe’s  well-known  interest  in  Benvenuto 
Cellini,  and  his  translation  of  the  artist’s  autobiography. 
Finally,  the  young  Germany  of  Gutzkow  and  Heine  ap¬ 
peared,  with  its  manifesto  of  sensuous  joy  and  the  eman¬ 
cipation  of  the  flesh,  its  new  transfiguration  of  things 
Hellenic,  its  loathing  of  asceticism,  the  Middle  Ages  and 
the  worship  of  the  Nazerene. 

A  study  of  the  civilization  of  Constantinople  reveals 
remarkable  parallels  with  these  ideas.  In  spite  of  the 
incense  and  the  candle  gleam  of  church  ritual,  the  city 
on  the  Bosphorus  was  still,  in  the  full  tide  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  an  oasis  of  unaltered  antiquity.  In  its  union  of 
Christo-ecclesiastical  usages  with  a  strong  heathen  spirit, 
it  had  something  which  inevitably  suggests  the  Renais¬ 
sance. 

Constantinople  had  a  glittering  court,  at  the  apex  of  a 
State  which  was,  throughout,  the  product  of  reason.  It 
had  a  bureaucracy  functioning  with  great  efficiency,  and 
a  policy  of  the  purest  Machiavellianism.  In  these  re¬ 
spects,  it  was  as  essentially  alien  to  the  romantic  world 
of  the  crusades  as  was,  let  us  say,  the  very  medieval  spirit 
of  adventure  of  Charles  the  Bold  of  Burgundy  to  the 
Renaissance.  From  this  point  of  view  the  emperor  Fred¬ 
erick  II,  whom  Burckhardt  regards  as  the  prototype  of 
the  modern  ruler,  is  seen  to  bear  a  suspicious  resemblance 
to  Byzantine  personages.  There  was,  in  Constantinople, 
a  cultivated,  sociable  upper  class  which  wrote  Attic  Greek 
as  the  men  of  the  Renaissance  wrote  Ciceronian  Latin ; 
a  cloud  of  humanists  who  made  ver-ses  and  filed  phrases, 


525 


Medieval  Civilization 

begged  and  were  unashamed,  and  looked  down  with  a 
true  hidalgo’s  pride  on  every  barbarian;  Platonists,  like 
Psellos  in  the  eleventh  century,  who  associated  with  the 
emperors  as  tutors  and  counsellors,  and,  versatile  and 
unprincipled,  dabbled  in  politics.  Pretty  gestures  and  a 
fine  style  were  worth  something.  This  had  always  been 
so,  and  consequently  the  antique  elements  had  not,  as  in 
fourteenth  century  Italy,  been  suddenly  borne  to  power, 
but  operated  as  natural  forces  in  the  regular  flow  of  in¬ 
tellectual  tides. 

Even  in  the  externals  of  daily  and  holiday  customs  the 
antique  was  retained.  If  they  desired  to  honor  and  amuse 
a  noble  visitor,  they  conducted  him  to  the  circus,  and  a 
Turkish  sultan  could  there  witness;  as  could  a  Maureta¬ 
nian  or  Parthian  prince  in  old  Rome,  the  chariot  speeding 
through  the  stadium  and  around  the  spina.  While  scenic 
theaters,  mimes  and  pantomimes  had  fallen  victims  to 
clerical  zeal,  the  circus  retained  its  place,  and  its  oppo¬ 
nents  had  been  answered  that  the  prophet  Elias  himself 
had  ridden  to  heaven  in  a  chariot,  and  that  the  sport  was 
therefore  legitimized  by  the  classical  authority  of  the  Old 
Testament.  Imagine  the  appearance  of  the  city,  and  the 
impression  it  made  upon  a  foreign  medieval  visitor,  with 
its  altars  and  shrines,  to  be  sure,  filled  with  the  priceless 
relics  of  old  Christendom,  the  crown  of  thorns  and  the 
true  wood  of  the  cross,  the  veil  of  the  most  blessed  Virgin 
and  the  hair  of  John  the  Baptist.  But,  in  the  sunshine, 
in  the  porticoes  and  on  the  forums  and  squares,  stood  pil¬ 
lars  with  imperial  statues  just  as  Marcus  Aurelius  and 
Trajan  in  Rome,  a  growing  forest  of  antique  works  of 
art,  brought  together  and  increased  since  the  art  thefts 

526 


Relation  of  Antiquity  to  Renaissance 

of  Constantine  the  Great.  On  the  forum  of  Constantine 
stood  the  colossal  form  of  the  goddess  Hera,  and  in  the 
circus  a  colossus  of  the  reclining  Hercules  and  the  group 
of  Paris  offering  an  apple  to  Venus,  figures  which  with 
the  melodious  curves  of  their  bodies  seemed  still  to  sing 
the  siren’s  song  of  vanished  beauty.  The  picture  inevi¬ 
tably  suggests  the  parallel  between  the  capture  and  plun¬ 
der  of  Constantinople  by  the  crusaders  in  1204  and  the 
sack  of  Rome  in  1527. 

Along  with  manifold  similarities  between  Byzantine 
and  Renaissance  civilization  there  are  obvious  differences. 
It  is  easy  to  speak  of  the  barrenness  of  Byzantine  civili¬ 
zation,  and  there  is  some  truth  in  the  charge.  There  was 
no  barrenness  in  politics ;  these  were  productive  enough 
to  leave  behind,  after  the  vanishing  of  the  Byzantine 
State,  a  fearful  gap  which  has  never  been  filled.  The 
Eastern  Question  is  the  specter  which  reproachfully  cries 
out  for  revenge  for  the  destruction  of  this  State  and  can 
find  no  peace.  Nor  was  the  political  history  of  Byzan¬ 
tium  (before  1204)  unfruitful,  but  rather  those  other 
realms  of  life  which,  away  from  the  world  of  affairs, 
draw  sustenance  from  the  deeper  reserves  of  man’s  na¬ 
ture,  and  flourish  in  the  pure  air  of  the  spirit.  In  a  word, 
Byzantium  did  not  produce  a  Leonardo,  a  Raphael  and  a 
Michelangelo.  As  a  consequence,  Byzantine  civilization 
lacks,  for  the  favorable  judgment  of  posterity,  that  nim¬ 
bus  which  genius  and  the  profoundly  creative  power  of 
the  recollection  of  vanished  eras  bestow,  through  which 
past  ages  endure  for  posterity  and  are  felt  as  living  and 
present. 

One  who  is  confronted  by  problems  of  this  sort  cannot 
527 


Medieval  Civilization 

usually  free  himself  from  their  spell.  Why  is  it  that  the 
strong  antique  element  which  was  fundamental  in  By¬ 
zantium,  as  in  the  Renaissance,  produced  such  entirely 
different  consequences?  May  it  not  be  that  in  the  final 
analysis  the  results  in  the  two  cases  rest  on  different 
foundations,  and  that  the  share  and  influence  of  antiquity 
has  been  overvalued? 

Let  us  then  make  an  effort  to  analyze  the  bases  of  By¬ 
zantine  civilization.  If  we  succeed  in  comprehending  its 
essence  and  in  contrasting  it  with  the  Renaissance,  the 
reflex  light  which  falls  from  Byzantium  upon  Italy  may 
so  sharpen  our  observation  and  so  illuminate  the  object 
observed,  that  perhaps  we  may  also  gain  a  clearer  under¬ 
standing  of  the  Renaissance. 

Byzantium,  the  new  creation  of  Constantine  the  Great, 
had,  as  its  first  and  supreme  task,  to  fuse  the  Roman 
State  and  Christianity.  One  would  naturally  think;  that 
this  needful  combination  could  have  been  consummated 
more  easily  on  the  fallow  soil  of  the  new  city  of  Con¬ 
stantine  than  in  the  old  Rome  on  the  Tiber,  where  the 
great  traditions  of  paganism,  and  the  pagan  State  which 
had  had  its  center  here,  were  still  prominent  and  tre¬ 
mendously  potent,  and  could  have  made  the  new  goals  of 
the  time  unattainable  and  have  created  obstacle  after 
obstacle. 

In  truth,  the  Roman  State  was  too  firmly  articulated 
to  be  bound  up  in  one  particular  capital.  Men  were 
already  accustomed  to  the  division  and  change  of  resi¬ 
dences.  Christianity  was  therefore  face  to  face  with  a 
Roman  State  which  was  by  no  means  uprooted  or  weak- 

528 


Relation  of  Antiquity  to  Renaissance 

ened.  At  the  same  time  Christianity  itself  had  already 
departed  widely  from  its  origins :  it  had  become  a  Church 
and  had  long  since  got  accustomed  to  the  world  and  its 
affairs.  It  had  been  called  by  Constantine  to  share  the 
government,  and  the  great  question  now  was,  would  it 
transform  this  joint  dominion  into  its  own  sovereignty? 
If  it  had  succeeded,  then  the  entire  civilization  would 
have  required  to  be  renovated  and  Christianized.  Let  us 
consider  first  of  all  one  of  the  most  important  spheres, 
that  of  law.  Did  Christianity  succeed  in  Byzantium  in 
placing  a  new  law  alongside  of  or  above  the  Roman  law  ? 

It  may  be  answered,  no ;  such  a  thing  is  a  chimera ; 
such  a  juristic  innovation  would  be  impossible  and  has 
never  occurred.  Yet  Islam  proves  the  contrary.  When 
the  Mohammedans  invaded  lands  of  highly  developed 
civilization— Persia,  Palestine,  Syria  and  Spain,  it  might 
have  happened  that  the  civilization  and  law  of  the  con¬ 
quered  should,  by  their  own  strength,  vanquish  the  con¬ 
queror*.  Certainly  there  were  tendencies  in  this  direction. 
But  the  memorable  thing  historically  is,  that  the  Koran 
could  actually  develop  and  foster  a  peculiar  jurispru¬ 
dence.  True,  the  Koran  itself,  a  collection  of  speeches 
which  grew  out  of  simple  relations  and  was  not  intended 
for  complicated  civilizations,  had,  from  the  standpoint  of 
law,  more  gaps  than  content.  But  these  gaps  were  filled 
by  a  very  remarkable  growth  of  new  law.  It  grew  out  of 
a  tradition  of  oral  decisions  of  the  prophet  which  were 
not  fixed  in  the  Koran,  but  could,  nevertheless,  be  carried 
back  through  trustworthy  witnesses  to  the  prophet.  This 
tradition  had  a  double  origin :  first,  the  saying,  the  de¬ 
cision  itself ;  and  secondly,  the  so-called  M usnads,  that  is, 


529 


Medieval  Civilization 

the  “genealogical  chains”  of  the  companions  and  confi¬ 
dants  of  the  prophet,  and  their  descendants,  who  handed 
down  the  sayings  by  word  of  mouth.  These  oral  decla¬ 
rations  of  the  prophet  now  form  a  most  comprehensive 
literature,  the  so-called  Hadith  literature,  which  supple¬ 
mented  the  Koran.  On  this  territory,  which  was  prodig¬ 
iously  extended,  there  grew  up  the  religious  jurisprudence 
of  Islam.  Just  as  there  was  in  Roman  law  a  rivalry 
between  the  Proculians  and  Sabinians,  so  here,  different 
legal  schools  arose.  From  one  point  of  view,  these  occu¬ 
pied  themselves  mainly  with  casuistry  and  debates  over 
the  genuineness  of  the  traditions ;  but  they  realized  that 
they  could  not  succeed  without  certain  general  principles, 
and  hence  systematized  the  legal  material  deductively. 
This  legal  material  may  have  been  and  often  was  taken, 
in  part,  from  the  Greco-Roman  law  or  other  national  laws 
of  the  conquered  countries  and  travestied  to  fit  the  faith : 
the  decisive  fact  is  that  the  religious  form  gives  its  stamp 
to  the  material  and  that  this  form  is  wholly  and  entirely 
peculiar  to  Islam. 

Christianity  was  not  able,  in  Byzantium,  to  create  a 
similar  religious  corpus  juris.  It  did  not  produce,  as  did 
Islam  on  the  basis  of  Koran  and  Sunna,  a  new  public  and 
civil  law  based  on  the  material  of  the  Old  and  New  Tes¬ 
taments  or  other  sources.  It  did  make  occasional  theo¬ 
retical  efforts  to  parallel  and  harmonize  Roman  and 
Mosaic  law.  But  the  power  of  pagan  Roman  legal  tra¬ 
dition  was  not  shattered.  Naturally,  after  the  recognition 
of  Christianity  by  the  State,  new  legal  spheres  were 
added ;  for  example,  the  laws  concerning  heresy  and  non- 
Catholic  sects ;  Church  law,  which  in  the  Theodosian  code 


530 


Relation  of  Antiquity  to  Renaissance 

was  only  an  appendix,  stood,  under  Justinian,  at  the  head 
of  the  law  book;  and  other  legal  spheres,  like  the  law  of 
marriage,  were  transformed.  But  great  demands,  based 
upon  principle,  above  all,  perhaps,  the  suppression  of 
slavery,  got  no  foothold ;  it  was  possible  only  in  practice, 
and  through  practice,  to  soften  its  rigors.  The  State  law 
— the  Roman  law — remained  in  force,  and  the  Church 
law,  as  it  was  developed  through  the  Councils,  remained 
by  its  side  without  subordinating  the  State  law,  in  case 
of  conflict  with  it. 

From  our  school-days  we  have  got  the  impression  that 
Byzantium  was  above  all  religion-ridden,  and  that  relig¬ 
ious-dogmatic  questions  were  by  far  the  most  urgent  in¬ 
terests  of  the  State.  Our  ears  still  ring  with  Arianism, 
monophysitism,  monothelitism  and  all  other  possible  sec¬ 
tarian  shades,  with  fanatical  religious  persecutions,  for¬ 
mulae  for  settling  Church  differences  and  Councils  with 
their  marvellous  vagaries ;  all  this  was  externally  so.  But 
it  should  be  remembered  that  in  an  absolute  State  relig¬ 
ious  opposition  was  the  only  possible  opposition,  and  that 
only  on  theological  grounds  could  words  be  found,  and 
battle-cries  formulated,  behind  which  the  self-conscious¬ 
ness  and  opposition  of  rich  provinces,  exploited  by  heavy 
taxation,  could  make  a  stand  against  the  capital  city  and 
the  government.  Hence  the  fact  remains  that  while  in 
these  struggles  the  opposition  was  frequently  real,  the 
point  at  issue  was  accidental.  After  all,  the  result  of 
century-long  struggles  over  questions  of  dogma  was,  to 
modern  religious  perception,  quite  a  matter  of  accident. 
Greek  love  of  disputation  and  Roman  juristic  subtlety 
had  this  effect,  that  the  whole  sphere  of  religion  was 


531 


Medieval  Civilization 

reduced  to  paragraphs  and  that  one  knew  as  exactly  what 
men  might  believe  and  might  not  believe,  as  what  in  the 
juristic  field  a  delict  or  an  obligation  was.  One  might 
therefore  speak  of  a  secularizing  of  religion.  Moreover, 
religion  was  not  given  over  to  the  zealous  protection  of 
a  priestly  class,  outside  of  which  the  rest  of  the  world 
had  to  keep  silence  in  Church  affairs.  On  the  contrary, 
theology  was  an  element  of  general  education ;  it  was 
associated  with  military,  political,  legal,  scientific  and  lit¬ 
erary  education,  and  the  laymen,  above  all  the  emperor, 
were  fully  trained  to  understand  religious-theological 
questions,  to  have  an  opinion  and  to  express  it.  The  great 
Photius,  who  is  especially  dear  to  all  philologists  for  his 
classical  studies,  and  is  well-known  to  historians  as  the 
originator  of  the  great  schism  with  the  papacy  in  the 
ninth  century,  was  a  layman,  and  was  raised,  after  being 
hurried  through  all  the  consecrations  and  spiritual  digni¬ 
ties  within  a  few  days,  to  the  patriarchate.  Cases  of  this 
kind  also  occurred  in  the  West;  but  they  did  not  bridge 
over  the  enormous  gulf  between  clerics  and  laymen  and 
did  not  disturb  the  self-consciousness  of  the  clerical  class, 
which  was  recognized  as  the  first  estate.  Neither  this 
gulf  nor  this  hegemony  existed  in  Byzantium.  As  a 
result,  men  in  old  Byzantium  were  occasionally  fanatical 
from  political  motives,  but  they  were  not  fanatical  in 
their  hearts,  and  more  than  one  emperor  endeavored,  with 
some  Mohammedan  doses,  to  transform  Christianity  into 
a  martial  religion  which  should  find  joy  in  worldly  things. 
But  where,  one  may  ask,  were  the  true  idea  and  spirit  of 
Christianity  in  the  presence  of  all  this  half-antique  ra¬ 
tionalism  ? 


532 


Relation  of  Antiquity  to  Renaissance 

To  this  question  the  iconoclastic  controversy  gives  a 
decisive  answer.  It  made  a  complete  separation  between 
secular  clergy  and  monks.  Since  it  was  not  possible  to 
destroy  the  monks,  as  hurtful  to  the  State— if  all  the 
world  ran  into  the  cloister,  if  the  cloisters  exerted  an 
ever-increasing  attractiveness,  whence  would  come  the 
recruits  and  soldiers  for  the  army?— the  Church  was 
cleansed  from  their  influence.  The  secular  Church  re¬ 
nounced  the  religious  ideal  and  became  an  organ  of  the 
State.  The  patriarch  was  transformed  into  a  species  of 
minister  of  public  worship.  In  the  vicissitudes  of  the 
struggle  over  the  images  the  high  dignities  of  the  secular 
Church  were  so  irremediably  compromised  that  great 
hierarchical  figures  like  Athanasius  and  John  Chrysostom 
of  glorious  memory  henceforth  vanish  and  never  reap¬ 
pear.  On  the  other  hand,  monasticism,  condemned  to  a 
Robinson  Crusoe  existence,  realized  the  ideals  of  asceti¬ 
cism  and  mysticism.  It  goes  without  saying  that  the 
highest  type  of  Greek  monasticism  always  remained  the 
hermit,  and  not  the  coenobite,  as  in  the  West.  The  Bene¬ 
dictines  and  Franciscans  fled  out  of  the  world  for  the 
sake  of  others,  and  thus  gained  strength  to  affect  the 
world;  the  Greek  monks,  since  the  iconoclastic  strife,  had 
no  influence  upon  society;  they  had  been  driven  out. 
Hence  Byzantine  Christianity  either  became  an  organ  of 
the  State,  or,  in  the  realm  where  it  could  develop  its  pecu¬ 
liar  life,  saw  itself  doomed  to  sterility  through  artificial 
isolation. 

After  all,  and  in  spite  of  all  transformations,  the  pro¬ 
fane  Roman  State,  with  its  pagan  kernel,  remained  su¬ 
preme  ;  it  had  settled  Christianity  in  its  own  way.  The 


533 


Medieval  Civilization 

same  is  true  of  the  whole  range  of  Byzantine  civilization. 
Another  example  may  be  given,  in  a  brief  discussion  of  a 
curious  effort  to  construct  a  new  Christian  geography. 

In  the  sixth  century  there  lived  a  monk  on  Sinai  who 
had  formerly  been  a  merchant  and  who,  because  of  his 
travels  or  those  of  his  intimates,  was  known,  even  in  the 
monastery,  as  Kosmas  the  Indian  traveller.  Kosmas  had 
written  a  book  which  he  called  Christian  Topography. 
He  began  the  book  because  he  discovered  a  contradiction 
between  the  accounts  given  in  the  Bible,  which  he  could 
not  but  accept  as  inspired  and  therefore  unimpeachable, 
and  the  Ptolemaic  system  which  places  the  earth  in  the 
center  of  the  universe  and  ascribes  to  it  a  spherical  shape. 
Under  these  circumstances  the  error  could  only  be  on  the 
side  of  the  Ptolemaic  system,  and  he  had  to  try  to  com¬ 
bine  the  declarations  of  the  Scriptures  into  a  clear  picture 
of  the  world.  (He  used  in  his  studies  a  Greek  translation 
of  the  Septuagint  and  constructed  on  its  errors  a  system 
which  even  if  the  premises  were  accepted  would  fall  to 
pieces  before  the  simplest  text  emendations.  This,  how¬ 
ever,  does  not  concern  us  here.)  He  had  also  read  that 
the  tabernacle  of  Moses  was  the  model  for  the  whole 
universe,  and,  connecting  this  with  passages  out  of  Isaiah 
and  Job,  he  constructed  his  representation  of  the  world 
as  a  great  chest  with  a  vaulted  roof  and  a  floor  which 
divided  it  horizontally  into  two  stories.  Below  is  the 
earth ;  on  its  side  walls  rests  the  firmament  which,  like  a 
strong  partition,  divides  off  the  mansions  of  the  blest, 
which  are  above.  The  earth  itself  is  flat  and,  like  the 
bottom  of  the  chest,  is  of  rectangular  shape.  On  the 
north  it  is  bounded  by  a  high  mountain  chain,  around 


534 


Relation  of  Antiquity  to  Renaissance 

which  the  sun  and  stars  move.  When  the  sun  is  behind 
the  mountains,  it  is  night.  The  earth  is  surrounded  by 
the  ocean  and  has  four  great  gulfs,  the  Roman,  Caspian, 
Erythrean  and  Persian.  On  one  side  of  the  earth  and 
on  the  other  side  of  the  ocean  there  is  still  another  bit  of 
land,  and  behind  it  is  Eden  and  its  garden.  Thence  flow 
the  four  rivers  of  paradise  through  the  land  in  front  and 
the  ocean,  which  again  appear  as  the  great  rivers  of  the 
earth,  the  Nile,  Euphrates,  etc.  A  precious  manuscript 
of  Kosmas  in  the  Vatican  library  shows  all  this  graphi¬ 
cally  by  colored  miniatures,  and  enables  us  to  see  with 
perfect  clearness  the  elaboration  of  this  system  of  Bibli¬ 
cal  cosmography,  into  the  scheme  of  which  geography  is 
made  to  fit. 

Science  may,  from  its  experimental  but  one-sided 
standpoint,  smile  at  these  things.  Nevertheless  Kosmas’s 
effort  remains  a  very  interesting  one.  Every  endeavor  of 
the  human  spirit  to  escape  from  the  accustomed  ruts  is 
worthy  of  the  highest  respect  and  consideration.  It  aimed 
to  find  a  new,  a  Christian,  standpoint,  and  to  establish 
science  afresh  on  the  foundation  of  the  revealed  books. 
Efforts  of  this  sort  in  the  West  became  more  fruitful 
and  pregnant  of  results,  although  they  have  not  strikingly 
enriched  science,  or  what  is  more,  the  human  spirit. 
While  for  a  time  intelligence,  critical  skill,  etc.,  declined, 
the  free  imagination  could  develop,  and  what  the  soul 
of  mankind  thus  gained  in  perception  and  depth  cannot 
even  be  expressed  or  estimated.  The  topography  of 
Dante’s  Divine  Comedy,  with  its  richness  and  life,  is 
unthinkable  without  precursors  of  the  kind  just  men¬ 
tioned.  A  widely  imaginative  and  religious-symbolic  ten- 


535 


Medieval  Civilization 

dency  was  thus  developed  in  the  medieval  West.  How 
could  the  Gothic  cathedral  and  Christian  painting  have 
been  so  completely  developed  without  these  previous  men¬ 
tal  and  spiritual  tendencies  and  dispositions? 

In  the  East,  in  Byzantium,  such  a  bent  was  not  estab¬ 
lished  ;  it  never  got  beyond  the  beginnings  and  remained 
in  fetters,  because  the  classical  spirit  and  rationalism 
formed  a  counterpoise  of  a  strength  unknown  in  the 
medieval  West  until  the  Renaissance. 

If  it  is  the  case,  then,  that  in  Byzantium  the  antique 
biases  and  traditions  were  maintained  almost  all  along 
the  line,  and  that  a  productive  permeation  with  the  new 
elements  of  world-history  was  lacking,  the  same  holds 
true  of  the  relations  of  Byzantium  with  the  barbarians, 
the  other  great  factor  in  the  Middle  Ages. 

The  soil  of  the  kingdom  was  thoroughly  penetrated  by 
non-Greek  and  unhellenized  peoples.  But  the  State  was 
a  Greek  minority,  which  operated  the  State  machine  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  ancient  political  rules.  The  bureaucracy 
was  not  racially  exclusive :  a  Mohammedan  renegade,  a 
Bulgarian,  an  Armenian  or  a  Slav  could  gain  full  admis¬ 
sion  to  it,  although  always  at  the  price  of  disowning  his 
origin  and  becoming  a  Greek-speaking  and  Greek-think¬ 
ing  Byzantine.  The  individual  barbarian,  provided  he 
were  trained  in  the  State  political  and  military  discipline, 
could,  just  as  in  imperial  Rome,  see  the  road  to  the  high¬ 
est  office  open  before  him ;  but  Byzantium  never  became 
a  barbarian  State.  The  Bulgarians,  non-Slavic  in  origin, 
had  been  Slavized  in  the  midst  of  the  Slavs  of  the  north¬ 
ern  Balkan  peninsula,  but  had  not  been  Hellenized. 
Basil  II  had  waged  a  murderous  war  against  them  and 

536 


Relation  of  Antiquity  to  Renaissance 

had  subdued  them ;  but  no  Bulgarian  Odoacer  or  Charles 
the  Great  was  able  subsequently  to  seat  himself  on  the 
throne  of  the  Caesars.  The  difference  lies  in  this,  that 
Charles  the  Great  conquered  the  Saxons  and  punished 
them  in  as  bloody  a  fashion  as  Basil  II  the  Bulgarians ; 
but  one  hundred  and  twenty  years  after  the  death  of  the 
great  Charles  a  Saxon  prince  won  the  German  and  soon 
afterward  the  imperial  crown,  and  it  is  well-known  that 
Otto  the  Great  never  sacrificed  the  peculiar  Saxon  accent 
of  his  mother  tongue.  To  the  Roman-Byzantine,  the  West 
was  ruled  by  a  barbarian  emperor  and  incurred  the  heart¬ 
felt  scorn  of  the  true  Caesars,  the  same  scorn  in  which  the 
Italians  of  the  Renaissance,  later,  indulged  themselves 
over  the  “barbarians  of  the  North,”  just  as  if  they  them¬ 
selves  were  the  true  sons  of  antiquity.  Byzantines  and 
Italians,  in  this  matter,  overlooked  one  thing.  These 
northern  barbarians  brought  original  elements  of  civili¬ 
zation  with  them,  above  all  a  law  which  was  their  peculiar 
heritage.  It  must  never  be  forgotten  that  the  German 
laws  had  a  mighty  influence  in  Italy.  How  many  hun¬ 
dreds  and  thousands  of  times  does  one  read,  in  medieval 
Italian  sources,  the  declaration:  I  am  subject  to  Lombard 
law,  legem  profiteor  Langobardicam!  These  so-called 
barbarians,  then,  supplied  an  incalculably  large  amount 
of  juristic,  political  and  military  material  to  the  civiliza¬ 
tion  of  the  West.  They  had  their  own  mythology  and 
their  own  poetry,  and  when,  from  the  twelfth  to  the  thir¬ 
teenth  century,  the  Latin-clerical  culture  was  rent  like  a 
thin  veil,  and  the  might  of  the  national  talent  and  the 
ripening  national  language  revealed  themselves,  what  an 
astonishing  richness,  full  of  promise,  was  disclosed !  The 


537 


Medieval  Civilization 

Franco-Celtic  poetry  found  tongues,  and  the  paladins  of 
Charles  the  Great,  Tristram  and  Isolde  and  Perceval 
appeared  as  if  borne  up  from  the  depths.  The  Nibelungen- 
lied  announced  a  different  love  and  hate  from  that  which 
the  pathetic  hexameters  of  Virgil’s  Dido  know,  and  still 
different  from  that  which  fills  the  thirteenth  chapter  of 
the  first  epistle  to  the  Corinthians.  Everyone  knows  that 
the  most  sonorous  names  of  Italian  history,  Dante  Ali¬ 
ghieri  and  Garibaldi,  are  of  Lombard  stock. 

The  barbarian  and  plebeian  lower  classes  had  no  such 
rise  in  Byzantium.  There  were,  of  course,  in  Byzantium 
a  spoken  Greek  and  a  literature  in  the  Greek  vernacular. 
But  how  poor  and  needy  it  is !  It  did  not  attain  promi¬ 
nence  because  it  could  not  surmount  the  wall  of 
Attic  Greek,  which  had  never  ceased  to  be  regarded 
as  superior  and  alone  worthy  of  literature.  The  Greek 
volgare  was  used  but  it  was  scorned  just  as  if  it  were  a 
barbarous  language.  Even  to  the  present  day  this  con¬ 
dition  endures.  The  modem  Greeks  have  inherited  it 
from  the  Byzantines.  When,  some  time  ago,  a  transla¬ 
tion  of  the  Bible  into  vernacular  Greek  was  projected,  it 
was  hindered  in  every  way  as  if  it  were  a  sacrilege 
against  both  the  Greek  classical  and  the  Christian  an¬ 
tiquity.  Friends  and  enlightened  portions  of  the  Greek 
people  regard  this  opposition  of  a  proud  caste,  clinging 
to  the  classics  and  legitimacy,  as  a  national  misfortune. 
For  so  long  as  in  Byzantium  the  renewal  from  below, 
the  natural  rise  of  the  sap,  remains  checked,  that  small, 
aristocratic  upper  class  will  remain  condemned  to  power¬ 
lessness  and  unproductiveness.  The  same  opinion  still 

538 


Relation  of  Antiquity  to  Renaissance 

prevails,  as  in  the  thirteenth  century,  when  a  historian  of 
the  conquest  of  Constantinople  in  1204  broke  off  his  nar¬ 
rative  and  said  he  would  not  so  far  dishonor  the  music  of 
Clio  as  to  tell  and  accompany  the  deeds  of  the  barbarians. 

We  shall  endeavor  to  draw  together  the  threads  of  our 
argument. 

Between  all  ancient  and  modem  history,  beginning 
with  the  Middle  Ages,  there  is  one  great  distinction.  The 
peoples  of  antiquity  enjoyed  a  sort  of  natural  growth. 
Their  political  creations,  their  law,  religion,  language, 
literature,  art,  all  grew  from  one  root,  at  least  in  essen¬ 
tials.  With  the  progress  of  time,  however,  mankind  be¬ 
comes  older,  it  has  inheritances,  it  is  weighed  down  by 
its  history.  The  Middle  Ages  were  made  up  of  barba¬ 
rians  filled  with  the  strength  of  youth,  of  an  ancient  polit¬ 
ical,  literary  and  artistic  heritage,  and  of  the  Christian 
religion,  which  had  arisen  under  very  singular  circum¬ 
stances.  The  situation  was  this,  that  on  a  promising  stem 
foreign  shoots  were  engrafted.  Its  destiny  depended 
upon  the  combinations  between  elements  and  forces 
which  at  first  were  fundamentally  foreign  to  one  another. 
Law  and  State  grew  from  one  root,  religion,  perhaps, 
and  art  from  a  very  different  one.  These  universal  pre¬ 
mises  were  absolutely  similar  in  Byzantium  and  in  the 
West. 

In  our  opinion,  what  men  call  an  advance  in  the  history 
of  the  world  always  came,  when,  in  the  combination  of 
fundamental  factors  and  powers,  one  of  the  new  elements 
so  preponderated,  materially  and  spiritually,  that  it,  as  it 


539 


Medieval  Civilization 

were,  digested  the  others  and  thus  strengthened  itself. 
It  is  in  this  way  that  the  great  and  decisive  conquests  and 
advances  have  been  made. 

No  such  great  solution  took  place  in  Byzantium.  An 
old  element,  the  Roman  inheritance,  remained  master 
and  was  always  strong  enough  to  prevent  Christianity 
and  the  barbarian  element  from  developing  freely,  and 
working  out  their  peculiar  strength.  At  most  one  can 
say  that  the  great  factors  remained  in  a  state  of  aggrega¬ 
tion  which  prevented  a  vital  fusion.  As  far  as  Christian¬ 
ity  is  concerned,  it  was  alloyed  in  the  Church  with  the 
State,  and  in  monasticism  it  was  cut  off  and  isolated  from 
life  and  free  activity.  The  pagan  heaven  was  more  than 
a  succession  of  beautiful  pictures  and  metaphors :  it  stood 
near  the  Christian  heaven  like  a  special  kind  of  old  dis¬ 
pensation  near  the  new.  The  barbarian  element  did  not 
triumph  over  the  social  exclusiveness  of  an  aristocratic 
governing  upper  class  which  spoke  a  different  language. 
The  routine  of  an  old  traditional  political  wisdom,  the 
habit  of  old  traditional  culture,  strengthened  themselves 
every  hundred  or  hundred  and  fifty  years  through  a 
renaissance  of  the  antique.  Here  one  may  lay  his  finger 
on  what  such  renaissances  or  restorations  could  accom¬ 
plish  of  themselves :  they  could  withhold  liberty  from 
Christianity  and  the  barbarian  elements ;  they  could  crip¬ 
ple;  but  of  themselves  they  produced  nothing  new  and 
promising. 

Let  us  henceforth  turn  our  attention  briefly,  but,  let  us 
hope,  with  fresh  light,  upon  the  Italian  Renaissance. 

The  Renaissance  embraces  the  last  centuries  of  the 


540 


Relation  of  Antiquity  to  Renaissance 

Middle  Ages  and  rests  upon  the  tremendous  new  forces 
which  the  Christian  education  of  the  Middle  Ages  cre¬ 
ated.  Christianity  and  barbarism  enjoyed  quite  a  differ¬ 
ent  freedom  in  the  West  to  what  they  had  in  Byzantium, 
and  it  may  be  called  one  of  the  greatest  facts  of  history 
that  in  the  West,  alongside  of  despotism  and  lay  coercive 
force,  a  structure  of  higher  freedom  arose,  a  Church 
which  at  first  won  independence  for  itself  as  a  whole,  an 
independence  which  then  became,  although  against  the 
wishes  of  the  later  Church,  the  point  of  departure  for  all 
the  freedom  in  the  world.  This  is  what  Ranke  means 
when,  in  the  third  volume  of  his  Weltgescliichte  (pp. 
161  ff.)  he  says  that  the  most  important  and  most  preg¬ 
nant  words  of  Jesus  were  the  direction  to  render  unto 
Caesar  the  things  which  are  Caesar’s  and  unto  God  the 
things  that  are  God’s.  With  these  words  a  free  state  was 
founded  in  man  which  cannot  be  reached  or  injured  bv 
any  outer  coercive  force.  This  possibility  of  a  new  man, 
uncontrolled  by  a  city  or  a  Caesar,  and  in  the  long  run 
by  a  pontifex,  this  freedom  of  the  new  Christian  man,  was 
met  by  the  barbarians’  love  of  freedom.  In  the  Middle 
Ages,  a  new  soul  was  born,  arose,  grew  up,  and  was  edu¬ 
cated. 

But  enough  of  generalities !  Let  us  open  Dante’s  Di¬ 
vine  Comedy  and  read  the  first  two  terzets  of  the  eighth 
canto  of  the  Purgatory : 

“It  was  now  the  hour  that  turns  back  desire  in  those 
that  sail  the  sea,  and  softens  their  hearts,  the  day  when 
they  have  said  to  their  sweet  friends  farewell,  and  which 


541 


Medieval  Civilization 

pierces  the  new  pilgrim  with  love,  if  he  hears  from  afar 
a  bell  that  seems  to  deplore  the  dying  day. 

The  mood  of  parting,  the  feeling  of  loneliness,  the 
voice  of  evening,  the  sound  of  bells,  longing,  the  breath 
of  the  transitory,  the  eternal  and  boundless,  in  a  word : 
Soul. 

Dante  could  not  have  taken  that  from  antiquity.  Let 
us  see  how  Homer  depicts  the  mood  of  evening  (Odys¬ 
sey,  XIII,  31  ff.)- 

“And  as  when  a  man  longs  for  his  supper,  for  whom 
all  day  long  two  dark  oxen  drag  through  the  fallow  field 
the  jointed  plow,  yea  and  welcome  to  such  an  one  the 
sunlight  sinketh,  that  so  he  may  get  him  to  supper,  for 
his  knees  wax  faint  by  the  way.” 1  2 

This  is  the  antique  feeling  of  what  may  be  called  the 
animal  man ;  out  of  Dante  speaks  the  soul  of  a  new  spir¬ 
itual  man.  No  one  can  read  Dante’s  New  Life  without 
thrilling  in  his  inmost  being  at  the  depths  which  are  here 
for  the  first  time  disclosed,  at  the  music  of  chords  and 
accords  which  sound  in  it  and  accompany  all  humanity 
into  a  new  life.  The  new  humanity  sees  with  new  eyes. 
It  does  not  try  to  cover  reality  with  the  beauty-cosmetic 
of  antique  artistic  feeling,  nor  to  deck  the  rough  reality 
with  a  dream-like  beautiful  veil;  a  new  race  boldly  looks 
reality  in  the  face,  and  realism  begins,  that  realism  which 
shapes  things  and  art.  It  is  the  same  with  the  Italians 
of  the  Quattrocento  as  with  the  Van  Eycks  in  Flanders, 

1  [Translation  of  C.  E.  Norton.] 

2  [Translation  of  Butcher  and  Lang.] 

542 


Relation  of  Antiquity  to  Renaissance 

as  with  the  Germans  and  the  French,  and  thus  it  is  most 
clear  that  this  realism  does  not  first  come  from  an  awak¬ 
ening  of  antiquity — there  can  be  no  question  of  this  lat¬ 
ter  in  the  North  in  the  beginnings  of  the  movement — 
but  from  a  ripening  of  medieval  civilization,  which  now 
opens  its  magnificent  blossoms.  Everywhere,  the  spirit¬ 
ual  soul  of  the  Middle  Ages  looks  out  of  the  eyes  of  the 
new  art.  Why  should  we  call  Leonardo  da  Vinci’s  Mona 
Lisa,  with  her  mysterious  look  and  her  alluring  smile, 
why  should  we  call  the  Madonna  of  the  young  Raphael, 
renaissance,  when  the  Nezv  Life  of  Dante  speaks  from 
them,  the  Middle  Ages  in  all  their  heights  and  depths  ? 

The  word  Renaissance  was  invented  in  Italy  by  a 
clique  aping  things  Byzantine,  who,  in  using  it,  gave  ex¬ 
pression  to  their  hatred  for  the  barbarians  and  their 
arrogance,  as  if  they,  the  Italians,  were  of  the  pure  blue 
blood  of  antiquity.  According  to  the  opinion  of  these 
people  and  in  their  propaganda  the  word  rinascimento, 
that  is,  rebirth  of  classical  antiquity  in  art  and  life,  was 
a  disavowal  of  the  Middle  Ages  and  a  protest  against 
the  migrations.  They  invented  the  appellation  “Gothic” 
as  an  insult  to  the  northern  art ;  they  named  the  antique 
architecture  “the  good.”  The  wish  which  Filarete  ex¬ 
pressed  in  1460  was  already  famous :  “Accursed  be  he 
who  devised  this  wretched  Gothic  style  of  building;  only 
a  race  of  barbarians  could  bring  it  into  Italy !”  Thus, 
by  these  deluded  Italians,  the  whole  Middle  Ages  were 
viewed  only  from  the  standpoint  of  the  devastation  of 
the  external  civilization,  which  was  accordingly  laid  to 
the  charge  of  the  barbarians  of  the  migrations,  the  Goths. 
These  were  believed  to  have  ruined  everything  noble, 


543 


Medieval  Civilization 

and  to  have  destroyed  civilization,  which  had  been  the 
creation  of  antiquity  and  had  now  to  be  restored  in  the 
spirit  of  antiquity. 

The  more  the  doctrinaire  tendency  was  accentuated  in 
Italy,  the  more  that  arrogant  Byzantine  feeling  of  legiti¬ 
macy  won  footing— a  feeling  which  cannot  be  called 
progressive  and  modern  but  rather  thoroughly  reaction¬ 
ary-all  the  more  did  Italian  civilization  actually  become 
a  renaissance  civilization  and  depart  from  the  spirit  of 
the  fifteenth  century  and  the  pure  and  great  medieval 
tradition.  The  Italians  now  consciously  took,  in  life  and 
morals,  the  ancient  examples  as  models ;  their  art  lost 
soul  in  the  effort  to  acquire  the  great  monumental  style, 
the  “correct”  gestures  of  antiquity,  and  was  diverted 
into  a  striving  after  formal  virtuosity.  They  went  to 
absolutely  absurd  lengths,  and  would  even  blame  or  wish 
otherwise  such  a  uniquely  great  genius  as  Michelangelo, 
in  whom  so  many  medieval  and  Dantesque  traits  still 
lived.  One  may  still  venture  to  imagine  what  Italian  art 
might  have  become,  not  if  it  had  remained  at  the  artistic 
point  of  development  of  such  bloodless  people  as  Sandro 
Botticelli,  but  if  it  had  advanced  farther  in  the  path  of 
Leonardo.  One  could  dispense  with  Raphael’s  sibyls  in 
Santa  Maria  della  Pace  and  Michelangelo’s  Christ  in 
Santa  Maria  sopra  Minerva  without  sorrow.  Italian 
renaissance  culture,  thus  transformed  in  the  spirit  of 
antiquity— the  culture,  in  part,  of  the  High,  and  certainly 
of  the  Late  Renaissance — was  extremely  well-fitted  for 
cosmopolitan  adaptation.  It  forced  its  way  over  the  Alps 
and  was  taken  up  with  enthusiasm  by  the  aristocratic 
societies  of  the  northern  countries.  Since  that  time 


544 


Relation  of  Antiquity  to  Renaissance 

Machiavellianism  and  an  unscrupulous  paganism  in  poli¬ 
tics,  and  a  conventional  so-called  art  of  beauty  which 
was  severed  from  national  feeling,  rose  to  power.  I  can 
not  see  that  we  have  great  reason  to  thank  the  Italians 
for  this  dowry. 

The  difference  between  the  actual  Renaissance  and  the 
pretended  Renaissance  lies,  one  may  say,  in  the  propor¬ 
tions.  As  long  as  the  Middle  Ages  in  Italy  were  living 
and  conscious,  when  to  Francis  of  Assisi  and  Giotto  the 
realism  of  the  fifteenth  century  was  added  as  the  last 
word  of  the  matured  medieval  man,  antiquity  operated 
most  beneficently  as  an  ingredient,  as  a  vitalizing  ele¬ 
ment.  Its  practical  results  in  the  discovery  of  the  world, 
in  the  broadening  of  the  knowledge  of  the  exact  sci¬ 
ences,  its  feeling  for  beauty  in  the  direction  of  simplifi¬ 
cation,  in  contrast  with  grotesque  bad  taste— all  these 
gifts  of  antiquity  gave  Italian  civilization  an  advantage 
which  caused  the  other  peoples  to  seem  slow  and  back¬ 
ward.  But  as  soon  as  antiquity  was  changed  from  a  root 
or  an  ingredient  into  the  flesh  and  blood  of  Italian  cult¬ 
ure,  as  soon  as  it  seized  the  mastery,  it  became  a  danger 
to  all  modern  civilization. 

In  my  opinion,  the  consideration  of  Byzantine  culture 
and  its  barrenness  can  free  us  from  the  delusion  that 
antiquity  was  the  real  productive  element  in  the  great 
Italian  advance  in  civilization  which  came  at  the  close  of 
the  Middle  Ages.  We  must  shift  the  accents,  which 
were  arbitrarily  fixed  and  distributed  by  the  hands  of  the 
humanists.  We  must  firmly  grasp  the  idea  that  the 
medieval-Christian  training  and  the  so-called  barbarism 
were  the  life-strength  of  that  which  is  traditionally  called 


545 


Medieval  Civilization 

the  Renaissance,  and  that  the  revival  of  antiquity  was  a 
productive  and  beneficial  element  only  as  long  as  it  re¬ 
mained  contented  with  the  role  of  companion,  with  its 
pedagogical  role. 

If  our  ideas  are  correct,  true  modern  individualism  has 
its  roots  in  the  strength  of  the  barbarians,  in  the  realism 
of  the  barbarians,  and  in  the  Christian  Middle  Agee. 


546 


The  French  Army  in  the  Time 
of  Charles  VII 

Adapted  from  G.  Roloff:  Das  franso sische  Heer  miter  Karl  VII, 
Historische  Zeitschrift.  Vol.  XCIII,  1904,  pp.  427-448. 

IN  the  fifteenth  century  a  momentous  change  took 
place  in  the  art  of  war.  As  a  result,  the  armies  of 
the  sixteenth  century  were  obviously  different  in  tactics 
and  composition.  In  the  earlier  army  the  cavalry  was 
the  chief  thing ;  in  the  later  it  was  the  infantry,  equipped 
with  long  pikes  and  fire-arms.  The  size  of  the  armies 
increased  considerably.  The  nobles  ceased  to  be  the  all- 
important  class  on  the  battlefield ;  the  burghers  and  peas¬ 
ants  became  quite  as  important.  The  fifteenth  century, 
which  witnessed  this  transformation,  was  also  the  epoch 
in  which  France  secured  her  liberation  from  English 
rule.  The  question  suggests  itself  whether  there  is  a 
causal  connection  between  these  two  events,  and  whether 
Charles  VII  perchance  transformed  his  army  in  order 
to  expel  the  English.  It  is  constantly  asserted  that  such 
a  causal  connection  exists  and  that  Charles  made  two 
innovations.  He  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  to  main¬ 
tain  troops  in  time  of  peace  in  order  to  be  prepared  for 
instant  war,  and,  what  is  still  more  important,  to  have 
been  the  creator  of  French  national  infantry.  But  a 


547 


Medieval  Civilization 

moment’s  reflection  makes  it  clear  that  there  was  no  real 
innovation  in  the  establishment  of  a  standing  army,  for 
such  had  existed  for  centuries :  ever  since  the  develop¬ 
ment  of  feudalism  the  feudal  lord  had  at  his  castle  or 
on  his  lands  warriors  who  could  take  the  field  at  a  mo¬ 
ment’s  notice,  and  the  continuous  wars  of  the  Middle 
Ages  compelled  the  king  to  keep  a  larger  number  of 
troops  constantly  under  arms.  The  significance,  then, 
of  Charles’s  alleged  innovation  is  much  slighter  than 
has  been  supposed.  There  are  other  question^,  however, 
which  cannot  be  answered  so  easily.  By  what  means 
did  Charles  conquer  the  English?  Was  he  really  the 
founder  of  French  infantry?  The  answers  demand  a 
consideration  of  all  his  military  reforms. 

The  French  army,  like  all  medieval  armies,  was  com¬ 
posed  of  knights,  i.e.,  of  heavily-armed  individual  fight¬ 
ers  who  preferably  fought  on  horseback.  There  were 
also  infantry  for  the  hand-to-hand  conflict,  and  long- 
range  fighters,  such  as  archers  and  crossbowmen,  but 
these  played  only  a  small  role.  At  Beneventum  and 
Tagliacozzo,  for  example,  they  took  no  part  whatever 
in  the  battle;  at  Courtrai  and  Crecy  they  were  present, 
but  their  importance  was  much  less  than  that  of  the 
knights.  In  the  earlier  centuries  the  army  had  consisted 
of  assembled  vassals,  but  by  the  beginning  of  the  Hun¬ 
dred  Years  War  it  was  made  up  very  largely  of  mercen¬ 
aries.  The  cause  of  this  transformation  may  be  briefly 
indicated.  The  vassals’  obligation  to  serve  was  in 
France,  as  everwhere,  strictly  limited;  they  fought  for 
their  suzerain  only  for  a  fixed  period  and  for  certain 
objects;  they  were  not  repaid  the  cost  of  getting  ready 

548 


The  French  Army 

for  the  field,  etc.  It  is  clear  that  the  suzerain  had  a  vital 
interest  in  increasing  his  military  strength,  and  also  that 
he  could  not  do  this  without  making  equivalent  conces¬ 
sions  to  his  vassals,  and  these  concessions  took  the  form 
of  pay.  This  new  method  also  enabled  the  suzerain  to 
enlist  foreign  warriors,  who  were  under  no  feudal  obli¬ 
gations  to  him.  There  were  plenty  of  such  men,  who 
regarded  war  as  their  occupation,  and  were  ready  to 
fight  for  any  cause  in  return  for  good  pay.  But  the 
introduction  of  military  pay,  a  custom  which  had  been 
in  use  since  the  Crusades,  did  not  weaken  the  vassals’ 
obligation  to  serve,  and  they  were  called  out  repeatedly 
during  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  and  thus 
there  were  two  different  elements  in  the  army.  But  the 
value  of  the  military  service  of  the  vassals  fell  rapidly. 
A  military  commander  who  relied  entirely  upon  the 
obligatory  service  of  his  vassals  would  not  be  a  danger¬ 
ous  foe  to  an  opponent  who  had  numerous  mercenaries 
and  was  therefore  less  restricted  in  his  operations.  The 
possession  of  paid  knights  was  therefore  a  necessity, 
whether  the  lord  secured  them  by  lengthening  the  mili¬ 
tary  service  of  his  vassals,  or  by  enlisting  foreign  troops. 
As  a  rule,  then,  since  the  fourteenth  century  the  armies 
of  the  French  king  and  of  his  great  vassals  consisted 
exclusively  of  paid  warriors ;  the  vassals  themselves 
appeared  only  as  auxiliaries,  as  extraordinary  reinforce¬ 
ments  of  the  paid  army.  Even  at  this  early  period,  the 
number  of  vassals  who  followed  their  lord  to  the  field 
as  a  part  of  their  feudal  obligation  must  have  declined 
more  and  more ;  many  of  them  had  already  entered  his 
paid  service  and  therefore  were  not  affected  by  his  sum- 


549 


Medieval  Civilization 

mons  of  his  vassals  to  the  field.  Hence  the  feudal  bond 
ceased  to  regulate  the  relations  between  warriors  and 
commanders,  or  to  determine  the  character  of  the  army ; 
its  place  was  taken  by  private  contracts  of  enlistment. 

This  change  in  the  method  of  raising  an  army  had  an 
important  influence  upon  its  organization.  As  long  as 
the  army  was  made  up  of  vassals,  feudal  principles 
necessarily  determined  its  structure.  The  vassal  led  his 
vassals  to  his  suzerain  and  the  army  was  organized  by 
banners,  and,  corresponding  to  the  loose  structure  of  the 
feudal  state,  each  contingent  of  the  whole  army,  and 
each  knight  in  a  contingent,  asserted  a  far-reaching  in¬ 
dependence.  Even  the  administration  of  the  feudal  army 
was  only  slightly  centralized.  Much  of  this  disunion, 
however,  ceased  of  itself  with  the  coming  of  the  regime 
of  hired  soldiery. 

The  paid  knights,  of  course,  were  not  attached  to  the 
contingents  of  the  vassals,  but  formed  independent  sec¬ 
tions  under  the  special  captains  who  had  enlisted  them. 
The  commander-in-chief  did  not  himself  undertake  the 
business  of  enlistment,  but  entrusted  it  to  persons  in 
whom  he  had  confidence ;  sometimes  the  necessary  money 
came  directly  from  him,  sometimes  it  was  advanced  on 
his  behalf  by  those  actually  enlisting  the  troops ;  not  in¬ 
frequently  warlike  captains  raised  troops  without  any 
commission,  on  their  own  account,  and  led  them  to  the 
main  army  in  the  hope  of  receiving  pay  for  them  or  gain¬ 
ing  booty.  Since  all  these  middlemen  commanded  the 
troops  they  enlisted,  the  whole  army  naturally  fell  into 
a  number  of  bands  of  varying  strength  and  quality,  to 
which  the  name  of  companies  gradually  came  to  be  given. 


550 


The  French  Army 

The  form  of  the  old  feudal  army  was  thus  destroyed, 
but  its  characteristic  lack  of  cohesion  was  inherited  by 
the  new  army.  It  would  be  easy  to  say  that  the  hiring 
of  the  troops  should  have  enabled  the  commander-in-chief 
to  introduce  stricter  discipline  and  better  organization. 
It  did  not  result  in  any  great  improvement.  It  is  true 
that  the  leaders  of  the  companies,  the  “captains,”  were 
commissioned  by  the  commander-in-chief,  and  swore 
obedience  to  him,  but  this  was,  as  yet,  no  guarantee  of 
proper  subordination.  The  first  condition  for  this  was 
that  the  commander-in-chief  should  keep  his  promise  to 
pay  wages,  punctually,  and  this  he  was  seldom  able  to 
do.  The  revenues  of  a  medieval  territorial  lord  were  too 
irregular  and  too  small  to  enable  him  to  provide  steady 
pay  for  a  considerable  body  of  men;  and  even  if  the 
Estates  of  France  allowed  themselves  to  be  forced  to 
make  considerable  grants  to  the  king,  he  never  could 
keep  out  of  the  pit  of  chronic  deficit.  As  soon  as  the  pay 
of  the  enlisted  troops  was  not  forthcoming,  obedience 
vanished,  and  with  it  the  possibility  of  improving  the 
discipline  of  the  army.  However,  from  the  beginning, 
the  attempt  to  make  any  far-reaching  change  in  this  mat¬ 
ter  had  been  abandoned.  For  it  was  tacitly  understood 
at  the  time  of  enlistment  that  the  pay  alone  would  not 
satisfy  the  needs  and  demands  of  the  troops :  a  share  in 
the  booty,  especially  the  ransom  of  prisoners,  was  ex¬ 
pressly  conceded  to  them.  This  introduced  an  anarch¬ 
ical  element  into  the  military  organization.  The  interests 
of  the  commander-in-chief  and  of  the  hired  troops,  of  ne¬ 
cessity,  frequently  clashed ;  for  example,  he  might  favor 
an  undertaking  of  military  importance  but  of  slight  booty 


55i 


Medieval  Civilization 

value,  while  the  army  preferred  to  plunder  a  rich  city  or 
district,  although  it  would  injure  the  enemy  but  little, 
and  perhaps  even  aid  him  through  the  consequent  post¬ 
ponement  of  military  operations.  Thus  the  authority  of 
the  commander  over  the  companies  was  very  unstable, 
and  at  times  entirely  lacking. 

It  was  also  impossible  to  change  the  tactics.  The  hired 
knights,  like  the  vassals  before  them,  were  individual 
fighters  and  did  not  form  tactical  groups.  Like  them, 
also,  they  possessed  a  strong  self-respect  as  warriors  of 
quality  and  insisted  on  utilizing  their  individual  ability, 
instead  of  obliterating  it  in  a  group  in  which  mass-tactics 
prevailed.  They  had  in  form,  to  be  sure,  sold  their  in¬ 
dependence  in  accepting  the  contract  of  enlistment,  but, 
as  the  commander  generally  failed  to  pay  the  purchase 
money,  the  troops  also  did  not  keep  the  contract,  and 
preserved  their  freedom.  Furthermore,  esprit  de  corps, 
which  facilitates  the  formation  of  tactical  groups,  was 
still  weaker  in  these  paid  troops,  coming  as  they  did 
from  far  and  near,  than  in  the  vassals.  To  the  vassals  a 
common  feudal  obligation  and  especially  a  common  native 
country  furnished  a  certain  bond  of  union. 

The  companies  retained  still  another  characteristic 
peculiarity  of  medieval  tactics :  even  the  smallest  bands 
were  made  up  of  men  differently  armed.  The  heavily- 
equipped  knight  ( homme  d’armes ),  in  hiring  out,  con¬ 
tracted  for  others  beside  himself ;  he  associated  with  him¬ 
self  horse  and  foot  soldiers  who  were  armed  with  long- 
range  weapons,  or  weapons  for  hand-to-hand  fighting,  and 
these  supported  him  in  the  fight  and  formed  his  attend¬ 
ants.  The  number  and  quality  of  his  followers  varied 


552 


The  French  Army 

with  the  means  of  the  knight.  There  was  still  another 
class  of  soldiers,  usually  members  of  the  lower  nobility, 
who  lacked  a  full  military  equipment,  and  therefore  had 
to  be  content  with  lower  wages  than  the  knights  received. 
Usually  they  were  divided  among  the  knights  as  attend¬ 
ants.  Among  these  subordinates,  even  if  they  were  not 
fully-equipped  as  knights,  good  warriors  were  to  be 
found,  but  the  mass  of  the  long-range  and  hand-to-hand 
fighters  were  of  little  value.  It  is  in  the  nature  of  long- 
range  troops  that  they  are  capable  of  rendering  sub¬ 
stantial  service  only  if  they  are  in  a  large  mass,  are 
handled  as  a  unit  and,  in  addition  to  technical  skill, 
possess  confidence  in  themselves  and  their  comrades.  All 
this  was  lacking  in  France.  For  the  long-range  fighters 
divided  among  the  separate  knights  had  no  closer  bond 
of  union  than  the  knights  themselves ;  they  too  were  in¬ 
dividual  fighters,  they  knew  no  common  evolutions  and 
therefore  could  not  fight  together  in  any  considerable 
masses.  As  a  rule  they  advanced  to  the  fray  individually 
and  were  consequently  condemned  to  comparative  use¬ 
lessness  from  the  very  start.  But  the  long-range  soldiers 
who  attended  upon  the  knight  were  not  the  only  repre¬ 
sentatives  of  their  kind.  The  cities,  too,  had  their  marks¬ 
men,  and  since  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century 
frequently  enlisted  foreign  archers  and  crossbowmen. 
The  city  contingents  also  accomplished  little.  Their  mer¬ 
cenaries  were  usually  undisciplined  and  too  few ;  their 
own  marksmen  were  not  accustomed  to  fighting  outside 
the  walls,  and  therefore  lacked  dexterity  and  self-confi¬ 
dence.  The  bow  and  crossbow  were  not  French  national 
weapons,  so  that  it  would  have  required  laborious  pre- 

553 


Medieval  Civilization 

paration  to  create  a  body  of  marksmen  of  real  value.  As 
a  result  of  the  inefficiency  of  the  native  marksman  the  bow 
and  crossbow  were  little  esteemed,  and  this  disesteem 
hurt  the  prestige  of  the  foreign  marksmen  and  naturally 
discouraged  their  use.  It  was,  moreover,  a  common 
opinion  that  infantry  who  were  not  equipped  with  missile 
weapons  were  almost  useless ;  if  they  were  light-armed 
they  could  accomplish  little  against  either  knights  or 
marksmen.  The  decisive  part  in  the  battle,  then,  belonged 
to  the  knights ;  in  most  of  the  sources  where  numbers  are 
calculated,  the  infantry  are  seldom  mentioned.  In  the 
English  army  conditions  were  very  different.  The 
scheme  of  hiring  knights  was  made  effective  in  England 
much  earlier  than  in  France;  and  since  the  English  king 
had  usually  more  ready  money  than  the  French  king,  his 
control  over  his  hired  troops  was  greater,  although  even 
he  had  not  succeeded  in  making  a  tactical  group  out  of 
the  knights.  In  contrast  with  the  French,  the  English 
marksmen  received  excellent  training  and  their  deeds  won 
them  well-merited  esteem.  The  bow  had  been  domes¬ 
ticated  in  England  for  generations,  and  in  the  wars  with 
Wales  and  Scotland  the  lower  class  had  had  abundant 
opportunity  to  use  it.  Hence,  in  the  English  army  there 
were  always  large  bodies  of  archers  who  fought  in  con¬ 
junction  with  mounted  or  dismounted  knights.  It  was 
by  virtue  of  this  tactic  of  united  arms,  which  requires  a 
firm  organization,  a  certain  discipline  of  the  parts  of  the 
army,  and  consequently  regular  pay,  that  the  English 
victories  under  the  Black  Prince  and  Henry  V  were  won. 

The  military  hierarchy  in  France  was  as  yet  only 
slightly  developed.  The  commander-in-chief,  under  the 

554 


The  French  Army 

king,  was,  since  the  thirteenth  century,  the  constable,  who 
was  named  by  the  king.  The  marshals  and  the  grand 
master  of  the  marksmen  were  subordinate  to  the  con¬ 
stable.  The  marshals  had  tc  attend  to  the  payment  of 
the  companies  and  to  lead  the  greater  divisions  of  the 
army;  they  had  to  see  that  discipline  was  preserved  in 
the  companies,  that  these  were  kept  at  their  full  strength, 
and  that  their  military  equipment  was  in  good  order. 
They  had  the  right  to  appoint  other  officials  to  aid  them 
in  the  exercise  of  their  functions.  The  supervision  of 
the  long-range  fighters  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  the 
grand  master  of  the  crossbowmen,  whose  office  had  been 
established  by  St.  Louis  in  order  to  improve  this  arm  of 
the  service.  At  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century, 
the  regulation  of  the  pay  of  the  troops  was  entrusted  to  a 
central  office,  the  treasury  of  war,  and  it  was  from  this 
source  that  the  marshals  obtained  the  funds  for  the  pay¬ 
ment  of  the  troops.  All  these  arrangements  were  largely 
illusory.  The  marshals  might  in  the  most  emphatic  lan¬ 
guage  impress  upon  the  captains  the  necessity  of  keeping 
their  troops  together;  if  the  pay  gave  out,  the  knights  and 
their  followers  scattered  in  order  to  extract  it,  by  plunder¬ 
ing  friend  and  foe.  Even  in  more  favorable  times  the 
authority  of  the  marshals  was  frequently  paralyzed 
through  the  bad  disposition  of  the  captains :  they  re¬ 
tained  the  pay  of  their  troops  and  thus  drove  them  to  ex¬ 
cesses,  or  they  exaggerated  the  strength  of  their  com¬ 
panies  and  required  pay  for  men  who  did  not  exist.  These 
dishonesties  lasted  in  all  mercenary  armies  well  into  the 
eighteenth  century.  Inspections,  regularly  and  unex¬ 
pectedly  made  by  the  marshals,  could  not  correct  the  evil. 


555 


Medieval  Civilization 

The  companies  were  rarely  near  together,  but  were  cus¬ 
tomarily  divided  among  several  widely-scattered  garrisons, 
and  thus  a  contemporaneous  control  of  all  these  parts  was 
difficult  or  quite  impossible.  The  resulting  damage  had 
to  be  borne  in  the  first  place  by  the  peaceful  population ; 
they  had  to  suffer  the  bitterest  oppressions  at  the  hands  of 
the  unrestrained  soldiers  and  therefore  had  to  fear  their 
own  army  no  less  than  the  enemy.  The  troops  were  at 
their  worst  when  war  came  to  an  end,  and  they,  being  dis¬ 
banded,  were  without  the  means  of  subsistence.  Neither 
the  knights  nor  their  followers  had  any  inclination  toward 
peaceful  occupations ;  they  preferred  to  gain  their  living 
by  robbery  and  plunder.  In  war  and  in  peace,  therefore, 
during  the  age  of  the  English  wars,  undisciplined  bands, 
augmented  by  riff-raff,  poured  through  the  land.  The 
French  government,  unable  to  repress,  sought  to  induce 
the  unbidden  guests  to  embark  in  foreign  wars,  in  order 
to  free  the  land  from  their  presence.  Thus,  after  the 
peace  of  Bretigny  (1360),  Constable  Du  Guesclin  led  the 
troops  he  had  used  against  the  English,  over  the  Pyrenees 
in  order  to  give  them  employment  in  the  Spanish  wars  of 
succession.  A  great  portion  of  the  disbanded  English 
mercenaries  threw  in  their  lot  with  the  French  and  ac¬ 
cepted  without  question  the  command  of  a  man  who  had 
always  been  their  deadly  enemy.  The  thought  that  war 
was  a  gainful  occupation  had  already  thrust  all  other  con¬ 
siderations  into  the  background. 

After  most  of  the  mercenaries  had  thus  departed, 
Charles  V  sought  to  organize  the  remaining  troops  more 
rigidly  after  the  English  model,  but  he  did  not  get  beyond 
the  division  into  companies,  above  described.  What  he 

556 


The  French  Army 

did  accomplish  was  lost  under  the  rule  of  his  weak  suc¬ 
cessor,  and,  when  the  war  with  England  was  renewed, 
France  was  abandoned  to  an  army  powerless  against  a 
foreign  foe  and  ruinous  to  its  own  people.  The  battle  of 
Agincourt  (1415)  and  other  defeats  gave  the  English 
possession  of  more  than  half  of  France;  the  name 
flayers,  which  the  abused  people  gave  to  the  troops, 
adequately  expresses  the  characteristics  of  the  French 
army.  Nevertheless,  Charles  VII  finally  succeeded  in 
driving  out  the  English  with  these  troops.  For  the  Eng¬ 
lish  army  degenerated  and  the  French  army  improved 
somewhat,  after  Agincourt.  The  rigid  organization  which 
had  hitherto  marked  the  English  army  declined  under 
the  weak  government  of  Henry  VI,  and  the  conduct  of 
the  war  lost  in  energy  and  unity.  Under  Edward  III 
and  Henry  V  the  English  long-distance  troops  had  been 
far  superior  to  the  French.  True,  the  French  did  not 
develop  a  national  corps  of  marksmen  worth  mentioning, 
but  they  corrected  their  deficiencies  by  hiring  more  for¬ 
eigners  than  before,  especially  Genoese  crossbowmen  and 
Scottish  archers,  who  could  hold  their  own  against  the 
English.  In  addition,  the  French  were  strengthened  by 
a  sort  of  national  exaltation  ;  Charles  VII  received  from 
his  provinces  more  notable  support  than  his  father ;  and 
the  English  more  and  more  lost  the  help  of  those  portions 
of  France  which  were  in  their  possession.  Popular  ris¬ 
ings  even  took  place,  and,  although  naturally  they  could 
not  destroy  the  rule  of  the  English,  they  divided  the  Eng¬ 
lish  forces  and  wore  out  their  strength.  Thus  the  French 
army  gradually  equaled  the  English  in  quality  and  sur¬ 
passed  it  in  numbers.  The  revolution  naturally  took 


557 


Medieval  Civilization 

place  slowly  and  therefore  the  French  did  not  capture 
their  lost  provinces  from  the  English  in  stormy  battles, 
but  gradually,  step  by  step.  There  are  no  more  decisive 
struggles  like  Agincourt,  and  only  toward  the  end,  when 
the  decline  of  the  English  was  far  advanced,  did  the 
French  gain  a  success  in  the  open  field  (Formigny, 
1450).  But  the  final  victory  of  France  was  assured  much 
earlier  than  this;  when  the  Truce  of  Tours  was  made 
(1444),  the  English  had  already  been  compelled  to  aban¬ 
don  a  large  part  of  their  former  possessions. 

With  the  turn  of  military  luck  the  internal  condition  of 
the  French  army  also  improved,  although  slowly,  and  with 
many  relapses.  The  willingness  of  the  Estates  to  give 
money,  which  resulted  from  the  patriotic  upheaval,  placed 
at  the  disposal  of  the  king  at  least  sufficient  means  to 
organize  a  small  trustworthy  body  of  troops,  and  every 
success  of  the  French  arms  knit  this  force  more  closely 
to  the  throne.  But  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  this  im¬ 
provement  affected  only  a  small  part  of  the  army.  Most 
of  the  troops,  lacking  regular  pay,  were  as  unrestrained 
as  before ;  captains  often  renounced  obedience  to  the  con¬ 
stable  and  the  king,  seized  and  plundered  cities  when  the 
pay  was  not  forthcoming,  or  refused  to  deliver  up  to  the 
king  cities  which  they  were  defending  against  the  enemy. 
Nor  was  it  always  the  worst  warriors  who  distinguished 
themselves  by  disobedience  and  deeds  of  violence;  men 
of  achievement,  like  La  Hire,  partly  through  need,  partly 
through  love  of  gain,  had  recourse  to  the  most  frightful 
extortions.  Only  with  the  greatest  caution  could  the  king 
venture  to  oppose  the  most  terrible  excesses,  for  the  bands 
which  were  living  by  plunder  and  robbery  were  much 

558 


The  French  Army 

more  numerous  than  the  better  disciplined  mercenaries. 
Usually  there  were  more  troops  marauding  in  the  interior 
of  the  country  than  fighting  on  the  borders  against  the 
English.  The  incessant  commands  of  the  king,  that  the 
troops  should  move  to  the  frontier,  were  ignored ;  the 
captains  negotiated,  like  independent  powers,  with 
Estates  and  provincial  authorities,  and  frequently  all  that 
these  could  do  was  to  induce  the  tormentors,  through  the 
payment  of  great  sums  of  money,  to  move  into  a  neigh¬ 
boring  province.  The  improvement  of  discipline  was 
hindered  by  the  circumstance  that  many  captains  were 
enlisted  by  great  vassals,  and  did  not  believe  that  they 
owed  obedience  to  the  king.  The  great  vassals  themselves 
were  untrustworthy  in  their  political  attitude  and  had  a 
natural  interest  in  opposing  the  efforts  of  the  king  to  ex¬ 
tend  his  effective  authority  over  the  troops.  The  first 
signs  of  improvement  appeared,  perhaps,  in  the  half  gen¬ 
eration  after  the  battle  of  Agincourt,  and  in  1439  the 
king  believed  himself  strong  enough  to  take  a  decisive 
step. 

Two  forces  hampered  the  development  of  an  organized 
army  :  the  plundering  bands  and  the  feudal  powers.  Both 
of  these  were  ultimately  reduced  with  the  help  of  the 
national  representatives.  The  way  to  end  the  war  was  dis¬ 
cussed  at  the  meeting  of  the  Estates  in  Orleans,  and  the 
result  was  the  so-called  Grand  Ordinance  of  November, 
1439.  By  this  it  was  decided  that  the  king  alone  had  the 
right  to  appoint  captains  and  enlist  troops ;  the  only  con¬ 
cession  to  the  feudal  vassals  was  that  they  might  main¬ 
tain  garrisons  in  their  fortresses.  Emphatic  orders  were 
afterwards  given  to  the  captains  to  keep  exactly  within 

559 


Medieval  Civilization 

the  number  of  troops  allowed  to  them  and  to  avoid  any 
increase.  The  greater  part  of  the  troops  then  in  arms 
were  to  be  discharged  and  only  the  most  competent  were 
to  be  retained.  In  this  way  the  captains  would  be  at¬ 
tached  exclusively  to  the  interests  of  the  crown,  and  the 
land  would  be  freed  from  the  excessive  weight  of  plun¬ 
derers  who  pretended  to  be  soldiers.  The  magistrates  re¬ 
ceived  full  authority  to  punish  marauders,  and  even  the 
people  were  empowered  to  repel  the  attack  of  plundering 
bands  by  force.  The  intimate  relation  between  discipline 
and  pay  demanded  that  financial  measures  should  accom¬ 
pany  these  reforms :  in  addition  to  the  privilege  of  rais¬ 
ing  troops  the  king  secured  from  the  Estates  the  right  to 
levy  taxes ;  the  feudal  vassals  were  forbidden  to  diminish 
the  royal  receipts  or  to  lay  more  than  the  customary  bur¬ 
dens  upon  their  vassals.  The  military  and  financial  re¬ 
sources  of  the  king  were  therefore  to  increase  while  those 
of  his  vassals  declined. 

It  was  inevitable  that  the  two  elements  which  were  at¬ 
tacked— the  princes  and  the  mercenaries— should  make 
common  cause  in  opposing  the  plans  of  the  king;  they 
joined  in  a  conspiracy,  the  Praguerie  (1440)  and  won 
over  the  dauphin  to  their  side.  Through  the  demand  for 
a  speedy  peace  they  hoped  to  gain  the  support  of  the 
nation,  weary  of  war,  to  dethrone  the  king,  and  to  estab¬ 
lish  their  chief,  the  duke  of  Bourbon,  as  regent  of  the 
young  dauphin.  Their  effort  failed  because  of  the  energy 
of  Charles  and  his  constable,  Count  Richemont,  and  be¬ 
cause  of  the  prestige  which  the  crown  had  just  acquired 
in  the  nation.  The  royal  army  received  reinforcements 
from  some  mercenary  leaders  who  hoped  to  be  rewarded 

560 


The  French  Army 

for  their  assistance,  the  sympathies  of  the  nation  stood 
unmistakably  on  the  side  of  the  king,  and  the  conspirators 
themselves  ceased  to  be  united.  They  had  to  submit  and 
accede  fully  to  all  the  demands  of  the  king.  Other  royal 
successes  followed.  As  the  English  were  now  less  dan¬ 
gerous,  Charles  could  lead  his  best  troops  against  the 
plunderers ;  he  had  some  captains  of  particularly  evil 
repute  executed,  and  dispersed  their  bands,  and  so  made 
at  least  a  beginning  of  carrying  out  the  Grand  Ordinance. 
But  these  were  only  slight  rays  of  hope.  When  the  Truce 
of  Tours  was  made,  thousands  of  marauding  troops  were 
still  traversing  the  land,  and  it  was  to  be  expected  that 
the  troops  which  had  hitherto  been  fighting  on  the  fron¬ 
tiers  and  were  now  to  be  disbanded  would  follow  their 
example.  The  problem  of  putting  an  end  to  marauding 
and  to  the  pseudo-soldiery  was  by  no  means  solved. 

In  this  predicament  Charles  and  Richemont  fell  back 
upon  the  device  which  Du  Guesclin  had  already  used— to 
get  the  troops  employed  abroad.  By  this  they  gained  time 
to  frame  new  regulations ;  perhaps  the  barbarous  mer¬ 
cenaries  would  be  destroyed  abroad ;  and,  at  any  rate, 
France  would  be  freed  from  plundering  for  a  time.  The 
international  situation  facilitated  the  carrying-out  of  the 
plan.  On  the  northeast  frontier  of  France  war  was 
raging  between  the  German  emperor  and  the  Swiss,  and 
in  Lorraine  there  was  a  feud  between  the  city  of  Metz 
and  the  duke  of  Anjou.  As  an  ally  of  the  emperor  and 
of  the  duke,  Charles  took  a  hand  in  the  war  and  himself 
led  a  part  of  the  army  against  Metz,  while  his  son  led 
another  part  into  Alsace  against  the  Swiss  (summer  of 
1444).  We  shall  not  follow  the  details  of  the  struggles, 


Medieval  Civilization 

which  lasted  until  the  following  New  Year;  they  are  of 
moment  only  so  far  as  they  are  connected  with  an  advance 
in  the  organization  of  the  army.  The  success  of  the  royal 
authority  in  leading  east  considerable  masses  of  men  out 
of  the  western  and  central  regions  shows  of  itself  that  the 
monarchy  had  gained  in  the  last  generation.  The  com¬ 
mands  of  the  king,  who  was  now  freed  for  a  time  from 
concern  about  the  English,  could  no  longer  be  simply 
ignored.  Certainly  his  power  was  not  yet  so  great  that 
he  could  have  forced  the  collected  soldiery  to  depart ;  sev¬ 
eral  greater  and  smaller  bands  continued  to  ravage  in  the 
provinces,  but  the  bulk  of  them  disappeared  and  the  land 
could  breathe  again.  The  army  which  went  to  Alsace 
was,  according  to  the  accounts  of  contemporaries,  25,000 
to  30,000  strong.  Of  these,  six  to  seven  thousand  were 
soldiers— a  clear  example  of  the  smallness  of  the  military 
value  of  the  bands  in  proportion  to  the  cost  of  supporting 
them.  The  Lorraine  army,  concerning  which  exact  re¬ 
ports  are  not  available,  cannot  have  been  very  different 
from  the  Alsatian. 

The  king  and  the  crown  prince  participated  in  the  war 
for  only  a  short  time.  Charles  left  the  army  at  the  be¬ 
ginning  of  the  siege  of  Metz  and  established  his  head¬ 
quarters  at  Nancy  (September).  Louis  followed  a  few 
months  later,  as  soon  as  the  army  in  Alsace  had  gone  into 
winter  quarters.  The  hopes  which  Charles  had  placed 
on  the  campaign  were  not  disappointed :  the  tedious  siege 
of  large  and  small  cities,  the  fights  with  the  Swiss  and 
later  with  the  peasantry,  cold,  bad  supplies  and  the  re¬ 
sultant  sicknesses,  rapidly  reduced  the  numbers  of  the 
troops.  Contemporary  estimates  of  the  losses  of  the 

562 


The  French  Army 

Alsatian  army  alone  fluctuate  between  10,000  and  20,000, 
without  reckoning  the  sick  who  encumbered  them  on  their 
return.  Without  placing  too  much  confidence  in  these 
figures,  it  can  be  accepted  as  certain  that  they  returned 
to  France  weakened  numerically  and  morally,  and  also 
that  the  losses  must  have  been  particularly  severe  upon 
the  best  portion— the  fighters.  Consequently  Charles  saw 
no  difficulty  in  disbanding  the  troops  who  returned,  al¬ 
though  many  of  his  trusted  counselors  were  anxious  and 
advised  him  not  to  take  any  steps  against  the  still  nu¬ 
merous  bands.  During  his  winter  stay  he  had  made  all 
necessary  preparations  in  common  with  Richemont.  He 
had  provided  himself  with  a  reliable  body  of  picked 
troops,  had  negotiated  with  the  most  important  leaders  of 
mercenary  bands  and  drawn  them  into  his  service  with 
promises — the  same  means  by  which  he  had  previously 
conquered  the  Praguerie.  To  the  captains  thus  won  over, 
the  king  entrusted  the  task  of  selecting  and  organizing 
the  best  men  in  their  companies ;  the  remaining  officers 
and  troops  were  to  be  disbanded  and  sent  home  under  an 
escort.  The  discharged  troops  were  to  receive  a  sum  of 
money,  which  should  extinguish  all  their  claims  for  pay; 
they  were  to  be  given  a  general  amnesty  which  should 
assure  them  against  legal  prosecution  for  the  excesses 
they  had  committed  during  their  soldier  life  and  facilitate 
their  return  to  peaceful  labor. 

The  plans  were  soon  carried  out.  The  constable  went 
first  to  Lorraine  and  took  into  the  service  of  the  king 
(April,  1445)  the  troops  that  they  desired  to  keep;  and 
immediately  after  the  troops  streaming  back  from  Alsace 
underwent  the  same  treatment.  The  bands,  which  were 

563 


Medieval  Civilization 

thus  split  into  two  classes,  w-ere  entirely  unprepared  for 
this  measure,  and  the  secret  understanding  with  the  use¬ 
ful  elements  excluded  only  the  undisciplined  rabble,  and 
forced  its  members,  willingly  or  unwillingly,  to  follow 
the  path  homeward  which  had  been  marked  out  for  them. 
That  this  would  entirely  prevent  disorder  was  not  to  be 
expected,  but  there  was  no  armed  opposition  to  the  king’s 
plans,  as  many  of  the  king’s  counselors  had  feared.  It 
was  a  great  success ;  the  possibility  of  establishing  a  real 
army  was  for  the  first  time  won.  The  king  now  had  a 
body  of  troops  no  greater  than  he  needed  or  than  he 
could  continue  to  support.  It  was  reasonable  to  expect 
that  insubordination  and  unreliability  would  henceforth 
disappear.  The  impression  which  the  dissolution  of  the 
great  bands  made  upon  contemporaries  is  shown  by  the 
reports  of  the  historians.  Most  of  them  praise  the  clever¬ 
ness  of  Charles  and  Richemont,  in  finishing  with  the 
vagabonds  without  a  battle ;  almost  everywhere  one  reads 
that  now  the  time  of  suffering  had  passed  by,  the  people 
recovered  confidence  in  the  future,  and  trade  and  com¬ 
merce  prospered.  In  an  ordinance,  a  few  years  later 
(April  28,  1448),  Charles  was  able  to  point  with  pride  to 
his  success  in  putting  an  end  to  the  plunderings  of  the 
soldiers. 

The  next  task  was  to  organize  the  troops  which  had 
been  retained.  They  were  divided  (May  26,  1445)  into 
fifteen  companies,  and  the  captains  of  these  were  named 
by  the  king ;  they  were  assigned  to  definite  garrisons  and 
subdivided  into  small  groups  of  twenty  to  thirty  lances, 
so  that,  as  d’Escouchy  remarks,  they  might  not  be  able  to 
use  force  against  the  burghers.  Concerning  the  strength 

564 


The  French  Army 

of  the  new  “Companies  of  the  Ordinance,”  as  they  were 
named  because  they  had  been  established  by  royal  ordi¬ 
nance,  we  have  no  statistics.  According  to  the  accounts 
of  the  chroniclers,  they  amounted  to  fifteen  hundred 
lances,  and  on  this  basis  the  average  strength  of  a  com¬ 
pany  would  be  one  hundred  lances.  It  is  uncertain  how 
far  this  ratio  was  carried  out  at  that  time,  for  by  the  next 
year  Charles  was  maintaining  a  much  larger  number  of 
troops.  In  tactics  and  organization,  the  new  company 
remained  the  same  as  the  old,  being  reckoned  by  lances. 
According  to  rule  the  lance  should  consist,  after  1445,  of 
six  men— a  heavy-armed  horseman,  two  mounted  marks¬ 
men,  and  three  mounted  followers ;  but  certainly  there 
must  have  been  many  variations.  Whether  the  Companies 
of  the  Ordinance  were  intended  for  a  temporary  arrange¬ 
ment,  to  last  only  so  long  as  the  war  with  England  was 
not  definitely  ended,  or  whether  they  were  to  remain  after 
the  peace,  it  is  impossible  to  state.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
Charles  did  keep  them  after  the  war  was  over,  because 
he  required  to  be  constantly  prepared  for  trouble  with 
Burgundy  and  with  domestic  enemies.  It  may  well  be 
that  he  had  this  in  mind  from  the  beginning,  but  had  said 
nothing  about  it,  in  order  not  to  furnish  to  the  Estates 
new  ground  for  complaints  about  the  high  military  taxes. 
Charles,  then,  made  no  real  innovation  but  only  expanded 
and  regulated  anew  what  had  long  been  customary. 

The  king  did  not  succeed  in  putting  an  end  to  the  con¬ 
fusion  of  weapons  in  the  smallest  bands :  the  mounted 
marksmen  continued  to  be  an  appendage  to  the  heavily- 
armed  close-range  fighters.  As  a  natural  consequence  the 
marksmen  could  accomplish  little ;  at  Formigny  they  were 

565 


Medieval  Civilization 

not  equal  to  the  English  bowmen  and  had  to  be  saved  by 
the  knights.  Thus  the  new  organization  had  as  little  ef¬ 
fect  in  improving  the  execution  of  the  long-range  weap¬ 
ons  as  in  producing  a  tactical  unit.  To  fuse  the  lances  of 
a  company  into  a  tactical  group  was  absolutely  impossible 
by  reason  of  its  heterogeneous  composition,  but  even  the 
idea  of  forming  a  tactical  unit  out  of  the  heavily-armed 
horsemen  alone  was  unthought  of.  The  division  of  the 
knights  into  numerous  small  groups  prevented  this ;  and 
as  a  consequence  regular  exercises  in  larger  bodies— a 
condition  precedent  to  the  formation  of  a  cavalry  corps 
— were  rendered  impossible. 

Under  this  organization  the  national  French  army  was 
composed  almost  exclusively  of  mounted  men ;  for  in¬ 
fantry,  in  the  future  as  in  the  past,  if  had  to  rely  upon 
Scotch  and  Italian  bowmen,  because  of  the  slight  value 
of  the  native  marksmen.  Charles  hoped  to  remedy  this 
defect  and  to  popularize  the  use  of  bow  and  crossbow 
more  than  in  the  past.  By  several  ordinances  he  decreed 
that  in  every  community  of  about  fifty  hearths  the  local 
authorities  should  always  select  one  able-bodied  man 
(1448).  On  all  feast  days  the  man  thus  chosen  must 
practise  the  use  of  the  bow  or  the  crossbow  and  must 
pledge  himself  by  oath  to  take  the  field  whenever  called 
out  by  the  king.  In  return  he  was  freed  from  all  taxes 
save  the  salt-tax  and  extraordinary  war  taxes  (hence  the 
name  free  archers,  francs  archers),  and  when  in  service 
the  king  paid  him  a  specified  wage.  It  was  soon  recog¬ 
nized  that  the  militia  of  free  archers  could  accomplish 
nothing  without  a  fixed  organization :  they  were  there¬ 
fore,  like  the  lances,  divided  into  companies  and  placed 

566 


The  French  Army 

under  captains  (1451);  the  captains  had  to  muster  the 
archers  and,  at  the  appointed  times,  put  those  residing 
near  each  other  through  common  exercises.  At  first  the 
free  archers  were  required  to  supply  their  own  offensive 
and  defensive  weapons,  and  as  a  result  only  well-to-do 
burghers  were  chosen;  after  a  few  years  it  was  decided 
(1451)  that  poor  but  capable  men  should  also  be  enrolled 
in  the  companies  of  archers  and  that  the  community 
should  supply  them  with  arms. 

In  this  arrangement  the  French  historians  usually  see 
the  most  significant  innovation  made  by  Charles — the 
foundation  of  a  national  French  infantry,  which  the  army 
had  hitherto  lacked.  Here,  again,  it  must  be  said  that  the 
free  archers  were  no  more  of  an  absolute  innovation  than 
the  Companies  of  the  Ordinance.  At  an  earlier  time  the 
king,  as  above  mentioned,  had  led  citizen  marksmen  into 
the  field,  and  the  organization  of  free  archers  was  really 
grafted  on  to  the  existing  communal  gilds  of  archers, 
upon  whom  the  defence  of  the  city  rested.  The  only 
new  feature  was  the  great  extension  given  to  the  use  of 
archers  and  the  pledging  of  a  number  of  burghers  to 
serve  the  king  as  mercenaries  at  any  time.  And  from 
the  purely  military  standpoint,  the  innovation  was  of  very 
slight  importance.  In  Charles’s  last  war  with  England, 
bodies  of  this  kind  were  employed  on  foot,  but  foreign 
mercenaries  were  associated  with  them,  and  the  French 
infantry  archers  accomplished  as  little  as  the  mounted 
archers.  In  the  battle  of  Castillon  (1453),  where  they 
appeared  in  great  numbers,  they  soon  took  to  flight,  and 
the  burden  of  the  battle  fell,  as  formerly,  upon  the 
knights.  The  cause  is  clear :  the  time  had  been  much  too 

567 


Medieval  Civilization 

short  and  the  force,  organized  on  a  peace  footing,  too 
weak ;  it  was  impossible  in  a  moment  to  transform  citi¬ 
zens,  unacquainted  with  service  in  the  field,  into  a  body 
the  equal  of  the  English  archers.  Moreover,  the  free 
archers  could  not  revolutionize  the  army ;  in  spite  of  them 
the  strength  of  the  French  army  still  rested  upon  the 
heavy  cavalry.  The  importance  of  the  free  archers  er¬ 
roneously  attributed  to  this  period  came  much  later. 

The  troops  organized  during  the  truce  were  designed 
to  form  the  kernel  of  the  royal  army,  but  they  alone  were 
not  sufficient  for  carrying  on  a  great  war :  two  thousand 
lances  were  not  a  match  for  the  English.  Accordingly, 
as  soon  as  the  war  broke  out  again  (1449),  the  army  had 
to  be  increased,  and  the  increase  was  made  just  as  before  : 
through  the  union  of  obligated  feudal  service  and  enlist¬ 
ment.  However,  there  was  more  system  than  before. 
Special  commissioners  were  sent  into  the  provinces  to  find 
out  the  number  of  noble  and  non-noble  vassals  and  their 
resources ;  they  carried  to  the  vassals  a  command  to  ap¬ 
pear  at  specified  places  within  six  months,  armed  accord¬ 
ing  to  their  wealth,  in  return  for  which  they  were  prom¬ 
ised  regular  pay  during  service.  These  orders  were  not 
issued  for  the  whole  kingdom  when  the  war  again  began, 
but  only  as  need  arose ;  now  only  in  the  threatened  prov¬ 
inces,  now  in  others  also ;  now  in  larger  or  smaller  num¬ 
bers,  as  the  danger  from  the  enemy  was  more  pressing, 
and  as  the  royal  treasury  prospered.  These  vassals,  who 
were  summoned  and  paid,  together  with  the  foreign  mer¬ 
cenaries  whoi  sold  their  services,  were  divided  into  lances 
and  companies  and  subjected  to  a  discipline  like  the  Com¬ 
panies  of  the  Ordinance;  the  latter,  however,  drew  a 

568 


The  French  Army 

somewhat  higher  pay,  as  the  name  given  to  the  newly- 
raised  lances — de  petite  paye — indicates.  The  summons 
of  the  vassals  had  not  the  same  success  everywhere ;  here 
and  there  nobles  sought  to  avoid  service  in  arms,  but  they 
were  the  exception.  In  general,  the  nobility  responded  to 
the  call  of  the  king;  and  the  lances  de  petite  paye  were 
just  about  as  numerous  as  the  lances  supplied  by  the 
Companies  of  the  Ordinance.  Moreover,  only  a  few  of 
the  former  were  disbanded  after  the  war  was  over,  so  that 
it  is  certain  the  standing  army  of  Charles  always  num¬ 
bered  some  thousands  of  knights.  Naturally,  most  of 
them  were  nobles,  who  even  before  the  reforms  had 
formed  the  bulk  of  the  fighters.  But  even  the  non-noble 
vassals  were  called  in,  though  it  would  seem  that  the 
Companies  of  the  Ordinance  were  specifically  reserved  for 
the  nobility.  To  be  sure,  this  was  not  expressly  stated, 
but  a  later  ordinance,  to  be  mentioned  presently,  which 
referred  exclusively  to  the  Companies  of  the  Ordinance, 
speaks  only  of  the  nobility.  Moreover,  there  could  have 
been  few  non-noble  vassals  rich  enough  to  provide  them¬ 
selves  with  the  expensive  equipment  required  by  the 
ordinance. 

It  is  not  clear  whether  the  summoning  of  the  vassals 
through  the  use  of  a  list  of  the  holders  of  fiefs,  and  their 
classification  according  to  the  completeness  of  their  arma¬ 
ment,  had  been  prepared  in  time  of  peace,  or  whether  it 
was  first  begun  after  the  outbreak  of  the  war ;  these 
measures  at  all  events  were  completed  only  after  the 
close  of  the  war.  All  the  nobles  were  commanded,  by  an 
edict  of  January  30,  1454,  to  appear  in  arms  before  the 
royal  official  of  their  district,  the  seneschal  or  bailli ;  ac- 

569 


Medieval  Civilization 

cording  to  their  means  they  might  come  either  heavy¬ 
armed  or  light-armed,  and  they  were  to  be  divided  into 
several  classes,  according  to  their  efficiency.  Those  who 
had  the  equipment  of  a  man-at-arms  or  marksman  of  a 
Company  of  the  Ordinance  received  the  same  pay  as  if 
they  had  belonged  to  it ;  and  those  who  were  not  so  well 
equipped  received  correspondingly  less.  Every  group 
receiving  the  same  pay  had  to  have  prescribed  offensive 
and  defensive  weapons  and  mounts.  In  this  way,  a  cer¬ 
tain  unity  in  military  equipment,  hitherto  lacking,  was 
secured,  and  mobilization  was  materially  facilitated 
through  the  classification  of  those  owing  service.  The 
vassals’  obligation  to  serve,  even  that  of  the  poor  vassals 
who  could  secure  only  a  partial  equipment,  was  sharply 
emphasized ;  those  in  the  lowest  class,  composed  of  men 
inadequately  equipped  for  long-distance  or  close-range 
fighting,  were  to  find  employment  as  attendants  of  a 
man-at-arms. 

The  effort  to  increase  the  numbers  of  the  troops  was 
accompanied  by  an  improvement  in  administration.  The 
number  of  lances  each  captain  had  to  maintain,  in  war 
and  in  peace,  was  specifically  prescribed ;  commissaries 
verified,  by  means  of  musters,  the  strength  of  the  com¬ 
panies,  before  they  turned  over  the  pay  to  the  captains ; 
the  garrisons  were  frequently  inspected  in  order  to  main¬ 
tain  discipline  and  protect  the  population  from  oppression. 
Every  excess  was  to  be  swiftly  and  severely  punished  by 
the  regular  courts  of  the  garrisons.  All  these  regulations 
would  have  been  useless  had  not  the  underlying  evil  of 
the  old  army,  inadequate  pay,  been  corrected.  The 
growth  in  the  income  of  the  king,  through  the  enlarge- 

570 


The  French  Army 

ment  of  his  domanial  possessions,  through  the  greater 
productiveness  of  indirect  taxes  from  expanding  trade 
and  commerce,  and  through  the  increase  of  the  faille,  had 
sufficed  for  the  regular  payment  of  the  troops  ever  since 
the  establishment  of  the  Companies  of  the  Ordinance. 
Naturally,  it  was  impossible  to  cleanse  the  army,  in  a 
trice,  from  all  the  evils  of  lack  of  discipline.  Complaints 
against  the  misdeeds  of  the  soldiers,  against  plunderings 
in  war  and  peace,  were  still  frequent,  but  a  great  step  in 
advance  had  nevertheless  been  taken.  The  increased 
authority  of  the  king  over  the  troops  and  the  dismissal  of 
the  useless  rabble  had  so  improved  the  fighting  qualities 
of  the  army  that  the  success  of  the  last  campaign  was 
quickly  achieved,  and  systematic  plundering  of  the  prov¬ 
inces  ceased. 

A  survey  of  the  life-work  of  Charles  VII  shows  that 
the  army,  after  its  reform,  still  bore  in  every  respect  the 
medieval  imprint.  He  had  developed  all  the  existing 
elements,  but  had  not  created  a  new  army.  The  royal 
authority  had  assuredly  made  the  feudal  powers  much 
more  serviceable  than  formerly,  but  the  military  organ¬ 
ization  was  still  based  entirely  upon  the  feudal  conception 
of  the  State.  The  nobility  formed,  from  the  standpoint 
of  taxation  as  well  as  of  military  organization,  a  privi¬ 
leged  fighting  class,  and  contributed  the  bulk  of  the  first- 
class  warriors ;  the  fate  of  the  army  depended  on  whether 
the  nobility  kept  their  feudal  fidelity  to  the  monarchy  or 
whether  the  king  was  strong  and  rich  enough  to  compel 
them  to  fulfil  the  service  they  owed,  and  to  pay  them 
their  wages.  As  before,  only  a  small  fraction  of  the  city 
burgher  class  appeared  on  the  field  of  battle  as  close-range 

571 


Medieval  Civilization 

fighters,  and  the  mass  of  the  nation— the  lower  class  of 
the  city  folk  and  the  peasantry — remained,  as  can  easily 
be  seen,  outside  the  army.  No  proof  is  required  to  show 
that,  from  the  standpoint  of  the  art  of  war  in  the  fifteenth 
century,  peasants  and  city-folk  could  have  been  used  in 
masses  only  as  infantry  armed  with  knife  or  pike.  The 
French  army  had  no  such  arrangement.  Nowhere  do 
Charles’s  ordinances  throw  any  light  on  the  organization 
of  such  masses  of  soldiers,  and  when  his  son  Louis  later 
on  followed  the  example  of  the  Swiss,  and  formed  some 
bodies  of  French  infantry  for  hand-to-hand  fighting,  he 
was  regarded  as  a  very  great  innovator.  The  question 
arises,  why  did  not  Charles  try  to  utilize  citizens  and 
peasants  in  this  way  for  military  service?  What  infantry 
in  close  rank,  armed  with  pike  and  halbert,  could  accom¬ 
plish,  the  Swiss  had  shown  for  a  hundred  years  against 
Austrians  and  Italians,  and  even  at  St.  Jacob  against  the 
French  companies.  The  truth  is  that  Charles  did  not 
require  any  such  force. 

In  political  life  it  is  not  the  possibility  of  attaining  the 
abstract  best  which  leads  to  reforms,  but  the  necessity  of 
solving  concrete  problems.  Charles’s  task  was  to  con¬ 
quer  the  English ;  to  attain  this  end,  he  sought  to  reform 
his  army  upon  the  model  of  his  successful  enemy  and, 
if  possible,  to  surpass  his  teacher.  And,  as  the  English 
possessed  no  infantry  armed  with  knife  and  pike,  Charles 
had  no  immediate  cause  to  create  such  a  force.  With  the 
Swiss,  who  might  have  shown  him  in  practice  the  need 
of  such  a  force,  he  came  into  contact  only  casually.  If 
one  goes  further  and  considers  how  slowly  and  labor- 


572 


The  French  Army 

iously  the  formation  of  such  a  new  military  type  is  com¬ 
pleted,  and  what  unfortunate  experiences  the  German 
princes  had  at  this  very  time  with  their  improvised  in¬ 
fantry,  it  will  not  be  hard  to  understand  why  Charles 
made  no  effort  to  create  an  infantry  force  for  the  hand-to- 
hand  conflict,  but  concentrated  his  strength  exclusively 
upon  the  improvement  of  the  existing  organization. 

The  decisive  importance  of  the  feudal  element  in  the 
French  army  is  shown  quite  clearly  in  the  time  of 
Louis  XI.  As  soon  as  the  princes  dared  again  to  oppose 
the  king  with  independence,  the  foundations  of  the  army 
and  of  the  royal  power  tottered ;  the  vassals  placed  in  the 
field,  as  before,  large  bodies  of  troops,  and  their  vassals 
aided  them,  unconditionally,  against  the  king,  so  that  the 
nobles’  obligation  to  serve  the  king  was  illusory.  The 
king  was  not  absolutely  sure  even  of  the  Companies  of  die 
Ordinance,  since  captains  and  knights  sympathized  in  part 
with  the  rebellious  vassals.  The  misfortunes  of  Louis 
throw  light,  not  only  upon  the  political,  but  also  upon  the 
military  character  of  the  army.  The  knights  of  the  Ordi¬ 
nance  vindicated,  in  spite  of  many  deficiencies,  their  former 
worth,  but  the  marksmen  were  as  complete  a  failure  as 
they  had  been  under  Charles  and  before  his  time.  This 
experience  led  Louis  to  organize  an  infantry  force,  hither¬ 
to  unknown  in  France — the  pikemen,  upon  the  Swiss 
model,  out  of  which  our  modern  infantry  has  developed. 
It  is  an  error,  then,  to  laud  Charles  VII  as  the  founder  of 
the  standing  army  and  of  French  national  infantry;  the 
standing  army  was  in  existence  before  him  and  the  in¬ 
fantry  he  had  was  also  an  old  institution  and  fell  to 


573 


Medieval  Civilization 

pieces  shortly  after  his  death,  without  the  possibility  of 
anything  new  developing  from  it.  The  foundation  of 
modern  French  infantry  was  first  laid  by  his  son,  Louis 
XI.  Charles’s  historical  service  is  that  he  strengthened 
the  power  of  the  feudal  monarchy  through  improved 
organization  and  thus  was  able  to  expel  the  English  and 
carry  forward  the  process  of  weakening  the  great  vassals. 


574 


List  of  Works  from  which  the 
Selections  have  been  Drawn 


/ 

Bibliotheque  de  l’Ecole  des  Chartes.  Revue  d'erudition  consa- 
cree  specialement  a  l’etude  du  moyen  age.  Paris:  A.  Picard, 

1839-- 

Cunningham,  W. :  Western  Civilization  in  its  Economic  Aspects. 
2  volumes.  Cambridge:  University  Press,  1898-1900. 

Darmesteter,  A. :  Cours  de  grammaire  de  la  langue  franqaise. 
Paris :  C.  Delagrave.  Fourth  edition. 

Devic,  Dom.  Cl.,  et  Vaissete,  Dom.  J. :  Histoire  Generate  de 
Languedoc,  avec  des  notes  et  les  pieces  justificatives.  15  vol¬ 
umes.  Toulouse:  E.  Privat,  1872-1892. 

Diehl,  Ch. :  Justinien  et  la  civilization  byzantine  au  VIe  siecle. 
Paris :  E.  Leroux,  1901. 

Dozy,  A. :  Recherches  sur  l’histoire  et  la  litterature  de  l’Espagne 
pendant  le  moyen  age.  2  volumes.  Paris :  Maisonneuve  et  Cie, 
1881. 

Esmein,  J.  P.  H. :  Cours  elementaire  d'histoire  du  droit  fran- 
gais.  Paris:  L.  Larose,  1901. 

Flach,  J. :  Les  origines  de  l’ancienne  France.  3  volumes.  Paris: 
L.  Larose,  1886-1893. 

Garreau,  M. :  L’Etat  social  de  la  France  au  temps  des  Croisades. 
Paris:  E.  Plon,  Nourrit  &  Cie,  1899. 

Gebhart,  E. :  La  renaissance  italienne  et  la  philosophic  de  l’his¬ 
toire.  Paris:  L.  Cerf,  1887. 

Graf,  A.:  Roma  del  medio  evo.  2  volumes.  Torino:  E.  Loescher, 
1883. 


575 


List  of  Works 


Havet,  J. :  Lettres  de  Gerbert.  Paris :  A.  Picard,  1889. 

Historische  Zeitschrift.  Founded  by  H.  von  Sybel.  Miinchen : 
R.  Oldenbourg,  1859-. 

Lamprecht,  K. :  Deutsche  Geschichte.  To  be  completed  in  14 
volumes.  Berlin :  H.  Heyfelder,  1894- 

Lavisse,  Ernest:  Histoire  de  France,  depuis  les  origines  jusqu’a 
la  Revolution.  Publiee  avec  la  collaboration  de  MM.  Bayet, 
Bloch,  Carre,  Coville,  Kleinclausz,  Langlois,  Lemonnier,  Lu- 
chaire,  Mariejol,  Petit-Dutaillis,  Pfister,  Rebelliau,  Sagnac, 
Vidal  de  la  Blache.  To  be  completed  in  8  volumes,  each  pub¬ 
lished  in  two  parts.  Paris:  Hachette  et  Cie,  1900-. 

Lavisse  et  Rambaud:  Histoire  Generale  du  IVe  siecle  a  nos 
jours.  Ouvrage  publie  sous  la  direction  de  MM.  Ernest  La¬ 
visse  et  Alfred  Rambaud.  12  volumes.  Paris:  A.  Colin  &  Cie, 
1893-1901.  The  collaborators  of  the  first  two  volumes  are: 
MM.  Bayet,  Bemont,  Berthelot,  Blondel,  Cahun,  Chenon,  Co¬ 
ville,  Denis,  Desdevises  du  Dezert,  Haumant,  Langlois,  Lavisse, 
Lavoix,  Levasseur,  Luchaire,  Malet,  Muntz,  Novakovitch,  Petit 
de  Julleville,  Pingaud,  Pirenne,  Rambaud,  Tannery,  Wahl,  and 
Xenopol. 

Lecoy  de  la  Marche,  A. :  La  Chaire  franqaise  au  moyen  age. 
Paris :  H.  Laurens,  1886.  Second  edition. 

Luchaire,  A.:  Innocent  III,  la  Croisade  des  Albigeois.  Paris: 
Hachette  et  Cie,  1905. 

Luchaire,  A. :  Manuel  des  institutions  franqaises.  Paris :  Ha¬ 
chette  &  Cie,  1892. 

Martroye,  F. :  L’Occident  a  l’epoque  byzantine.  Goths  et  Van- 
dales.  Paris :  Hachette  &  Cie,  1904. 

Recueil  des  historiens  des  Croisades.  Paris :  Imprimerie  Na¬ 
tional,  1841- 

Revue  des  Deux  Mondes.  Paris :  Bureau  de  la  Revue  des  Deux 
Mondes,  1831-. 


576 


List  of  Works 


Vaublanc,  M.  le  Vte  de:  La  France  au  temps  des  Croisades.  4 
volumes.  Paris  :  Techener,  1844-1849. 

Viollet,  M. :  Droit  public;  Histoire  des  institutions  politiques  et 
administratives  de  la  France.  2  volumes.  Paris :  L.  Larose, 
1890-1898. 

Voigt,  G. :  Die  Wiederbelebung  des  classischen  Alterthums. 
Berlin :  G.  Reimer,  1893. 

Weise.  O. :  Unsere  Muttersprache.  Leipzig:  B.  G.  Teubner,  1897. 


577 


Index 


Index 


Abbot,  position  of,  141-142 
Abbot-general,  142,  143 
Abelard,  279,  283,  303,  307,  308, 
426,  458,  477,  4/8 
Acre,  261-263,  264,  265,  268 
Adalbero,  archbishop,  377,  378, 
381,  383,  384.  385.  386,  387, 
388,  390 

Adalbero,  bishop,  389,  393,  402 
Adalhard  of  Corbey,  319 
Adelaide,  empress,  380,  385 
Adenet,  322 

I  Adoption,  Germanic,  241 
Advocate,  201 
Eduans,  37 
Elianus,  292 

/Eneas  Sylvius  (Pius  II),  302 

JEneid,  299 

Eonius,  7 1 

Esop,  299 

Etius,  51,  52,  57 

Agincourt,  557,  558,  559 

Agricola,  7 

Agriculture,  books  on,  220, 
282;  in  Germany,  362-363, 

364 

Aid,  feudal,  160,  169 
Aimon  de  Varennes,  322 
Alain  de  Lille,  299,  306,  348 
Alaric,  4,  62 

Alars  of  Cambrai,  300,  306 
Al-Astil,  259 

Albert  the  Great,  462,  463 
Albigenses,  432-457.  See  also 
Albigensian  crusade,  Cath- 
ari,  Catharism 

Albigensian  crusade,  319,  324, 
437,  455,  482 


Alcuin,  280,  297,  298 
Aldhelm,  St.,  297 
Alemannia,  1 1 7,  123,  328 
Aleppo,  214 
Alexandria,  215 
Alexiad,  219 

Alienation,  feudal,  190,  194 
Allodial,  189,  203,  210 
Almeria,  224-239 
Almoner,  147 
Alphonso  VI,  150,  239 
Alt-Breisach,  383,  384 
Amalfi,  216 

Amand,  St.,  83,  114-116 
Ambrose,  St.,  147,  303,  504 
Ammianus  Marcellinus,  54 
Amortissement,  195-19  7 
Anacletus  II,  420,  421,  422 
Anastasius,  102 
Andalusia,  239 
Anglo-Saxons,  119,  120,  121, 
315,  328 

Anna  Comnena,  219 
Antoninus,  8 
Apologists,  287 
Appareillamenturn,  446 
Apricot,  255 

Aquitaine,  4,  13,  51,  114,  115 
Arabs,  218,  223,  246,  254,  315, 
376,  464,  465,  477.  See  also 
Moslem 
Arator,  298 
Aratus,  293 
Arch-abbot,  140,  144 
Architecture,  222,  469  ff.,  479, 
483-484,  536,  543 
Ariosto,  482 

Aristocracy,  Roman,  18-33 

581 


Index 


Aristotelianism.  See  Aristotle 
Aristotle,  55,  293,  300,  301,  303. 
307,  356,  425.  460,  461-466, 
477,  489 

Arithmetic,  293,  308,  355 
“Army  of  the  Peace,”  184 
Arnold  of  Brescia,  198,  426- 
427,  478 

Arnulf,  archbishop,  390,  391, 
392,  393,  394,  395,  398,  400- 
401 

Arnulf  of  Beauvais,  475 
Arriere-fief,  162 
Art,  in  Byzantium,  90-91,  221- 
223,  526-527;  in  thirteenth 
century,  469-473 ;  Italian,  544 
Ascripti,  24 
Assecuratio,  186,  187 
Astronomy,  218,  293,  308,  355 
Atabek,  250 

Athanasius  the  Great,  307 
Atmeidan  Place,  87 
Augustine,  St.,  130,  280,  287, 
303,  304,  306,  401,  460,  466, 
5°4 

Augustinianism,  460,  465,  466 
Aurum  oblatitium,  36 
Ausonius,  17 
Autun,  9,  10- 11,  15 
Averroism,  464,  465,  466,  489 
Avicenna,  464 
Avitus,  54 
Azure,  255 

Bacon,  Roger,  321 
Bagdad,  213 
Bailli,  373,  569 
Baldwin  I,  272,  273 
Baldwin  of  Ardres,  270 
Bangor,  116 
Bari,  216 
Baron,  164,  177 
Baronies,  164,  165 
Basil  I,  218,  219;  II,  217,  536— 
537 

Basil,  St.,  280,  287 


Basilica,  219 
Bavaria,  118,  123,  328 
Beards,  255 
Becri,  237,  238 

Belisarius,  88-89,  108,  109,  ill 
Benedict,  St.,  130,  144,  I54~i55, 
157 

Benedictines,  131,  133,  154,  155, 
158,  278,  282,  414 
Benefice,  203 
Beneventum,  548 
Benjamin  of  Tudela,  213,  214, 
216 

Benozzo  Gozzoli,  489 
Benzo,  bishop,  297 
Berbers,  235,  236 
Bernard,  St.,  293,  307,  351,  352, 
406-431,  458 
Bernard  of  Beziers,  206 
Bernard  of  Chartres,  298 
Bertram,  71 

Bertrand  de  Rays,  273-276 
Beyrout,  217 
Bezants,  255 

Bible,  302,  328,  342,  345-347, 
356.  See  also  Scriptures 
Black  Prince,  554 
Blanche  of  Castile,  491,  493 
Blazonry,  255 

Blues.  See  Greens  and  Blues 
Bobbio,  1 17,  379,  380,  381,  399 
Boethius,  55-56,  57,  58,  277, 
293,  3i9,  322 
Bologna,  348 
Bonaventure,  St.,  348 
Boniface  (St.  Winfrith),  120- 
128 

Boniface  VIII,  192,  193,  431 
Borel,  376,  388,  389 
Bretigny,  556 
Breton,  315,  321 
Briennias,  Caesar  Nicephorus, 
219 

Brittany,  479 
Brocades,  Greek,  215 
Brunhildis,  86,  117 


582 


Index 


Bruno,  founder  of  Carthusians, 
156 

Bulgarians,  215,  273,  536-537 

Buraburg,  123 

Burckhardt,  Jacob,  524-525 

Burgundian,  321 

Burgundians,  50,  51,  52,  53,  59, 
328 

Burgundy,  138 

Byzantine  civilization,  87-113, 
212,  223,  528  ff. 

Byzantines,  250,  253,  254,  484 

Byzantium,  88,  91,  92,  93,  100, 
1 13,  217,  223,  283.  See  also 
Byzantine  civilization  and 
Constantinople 


Cadoc,  St.,  304-305 
Caesar,  Julius,  293 
Calixtus  II,  203,  207 
Camaldoli,  157 
Canterbury  Tales,  323 
Capetians,  163,  202,  321,  322, 
417,  492 

Capitation  tax,  35 
Caput,  35 

Caravans,  261,  262,  267,  268 
Cardinal,  Peire,  321 
Carloman,  124,  125 
Carolingian  empire,  120,  134 
Carolingians,  116,  119,  313 
Carpentry,  469,  472 
Carthusians,  132,  157 
Cassiodorus,  57,  58 
Castellan,  165,  175 
Castellmn,  33,  56 
Catalan,  315,  318 
Cathari,  432-457 
Catharism,  440  ff.,  488 
Cavalcanti,  Guido,  482 
Cavallarius,  209 
Celestine  III,  450 
Cellini,  Benvenuto,  525 
Celtic,  4,  5,  246,  313-315 
Celts,  84 


Ceremonies  of  the  Court  of 
Byzantium,  219 
Chaise-Dieu,  156 
“Chancery  German,”  343 
Chanson,  245,  320,  458,  479,  481 
Chapter-general,  144,  152 
Charities,  at  Constantinople, 
212 

Charles  the  Bald,  475 
Charles  the  Bold,  525 
Charles  V,  of  France,  196,  556; 

VII,  of  France,  547  ff. 
Charles  the  Great  (Charle¬ 
magne),  135,  154,  204,  206, 
278,  297,  298,  334,  479-480, 
482-483,  538 

Charles  Martel,  120,  121,  122, 
123 

Charles  the  Simple,  138,  204 
Chartres,  470-471 
Chartreuse,  157 
Chaucer,  323 
Childebert,  72  -73,  1 17 
Chilperic,  65,  68,  77 
Chivalry,  240-247;  reality  of, 
243,  244;  source,  244,  245 
Chlotar,  82 

Christian  Topography,  534  ff. 
Chrodechildis,  72 
Chrysargyrus,  35,  41 
Church,  acquisition  of  prop¬ 
erty  by,  194-198,  199-200, 
202 ;  adoption  of  Latin,  6, 
294-295 ;  and  feudalism, 
188-209 ;  as  governing  and 
restraining  force,  474-476, 
528  ff. ;  attitude  toward  class¬ 
ics,  287-298;  Greek,  487, 
528  ff. ;  Irish,  83-86;  Mero¬ 
vingian,  62-63,  71,  82-83,86, 
130.  See  also  Empire  and 
Papacy,  Monasteries,  Monas- 
ticism,  and  names  of  clerics. 
Cicero,  277,  278,  280.  283,  288, 
291,  292,  293,  296,  300,  310,  313 
Cimbri,  327 

583 


Index 


Cino  da  Rinucinni,  489 
Circus.  See  Hippodrome 
Cistercians,  132,  153-155,  157“ 
158,  192,  410  ff.,  470 
Citeaux,  1537 155.  409,  437,  454. 

See  also  Cistercians 
City  life  in  Germany,  358-365 
City  of  God,  303 
City,  Roman,  change  in,  31, 

364 

Civitas,  19,  20,  62 
Clairvaux,  410  ff.,  430 
Classics,  145-146,  277-309,  405, 
459,  482.  See  also  Church, 
and  names  of  individual  au¬ 
thors 

Claudian,  279 
Claudius,  Appius,  56 
Claudius,  emperor,  6 
Clement  IV,  487 
Clericis  laic  os,  192 
Clotilda,  80 

Clovis,  61,  65-66,  68,  79-81 
Cluniacs,  153.  See  also  Cluny 
Cluny,  137- 152,  154,  282;  con¬ 
trasted  with  Clairvaux,  410  ff. 
Coblenz,  363 
Colee,  242,  244 
Cologne,  126,  134 
Colon,  26-29,  30,  36,  40 
Colonate,  27-29 
Columban,  St.,  85-86,  116-117, 
132 

Qomadi,  227 

Commendation,  22,  23,  29 
Commerce,  Byzantine,  214- 
216;  of  southern  France, 
432-433 

Commune,  474,  475,  476,  478,' 
485 

Companies,  550  ff. ;  ravages  of, 
556, 558-559, 560-564 
Concordat  of  Worms,  420 
Confessor  of  Queen  Marguer¬ 
ite,  495,  503,  5o6,  508 
Confiscation,  170,  190 


Congregation  of  Cluny,  141- 
145 

Conon  de  Bethune,  322 
Conrad  III,  424 
Consolamentum,  443,  444 
Consolations,  of  Boethius,  277, 
319 

Constantine  the  Great,  3 7,  527, 
529 

Constantine  VII,  218,  219,  220, 
221 

Constantinople,  212-214,  216- 
217,  262,  525  ff. ;  religious- 
dogmatic  questions  in,  531  — 
532.  See  also  Byzantium 
Constantins,  50,  51 
Constantius  Chlorus,  11 
Conversion,  effect  of,  1 19-120 
Corbinian,  118 
Corvee,  36,  39 

Council,  748  a.d.,  127;  Nar- 
bonne  (990),  207;  Verzy 

(99i),  393-395!  Toulouse 

(1054),  207;  Clermont,  183; 
Tours  (1163),  191 ;  Lateran 
(1179),  191 ;  Lateran  (1215), 
191 

Count,  164,  203 
Counties,  164 
Courtrai,  548 
Crecy,  548 
Crescentius,  398 
Crossbow,  255,  553,  554 
Crusades,  248-256,  428-429, 

476,  480,  509-512,  521-523, 
549 ;  character  of,  248-253 ; 
results  of,  253-256,  334-335! 
material  for  literature  from, 
269-276 

Curial,  35,  41-42,  47 
Curtis  ( Cortis ),  19,  31 
Curtius,  Quintus,  302 
Custom-house,  261-262 
Customs,  feudal,  180,  181 

Dagobert,  82,  115,  133 


584 


Index 


Daleya,  225-226 
Damascus,  214,  267 
Damiani,  Peter,  288 
Danes,  131,  135 
Dante,  292,  306,  479,  482,  487, 
489,  490,  535.  538,  541-543 
Decimateurs,  Gros,  208 
De  Conscientia,  351 
Defensor,  22 
Definitors,  144 
Dialectics,  293,  308,  355,  356. 

See  also  Logic 
Dialects,  3x7-318 
Dice,  32,  58,  373 
Digenis  Akritas,  221 
Dina ,  260 
Diogenes,  301 

Divine  Comedy,  535,  541-542 
Djafar,  Abou-’l  Fadhl,  229- 
232 

Dominicans,  290,  348,  460,  462- 
463,  465,  494,  501 
Don  Quixote,  482 
Donatus,  283,  293 
Draughting,  469.  471 
Droit  de  depouilles,  205,  206 
Drum,  255 

Dubbing,  246.  See  also  Knight¬ 
hood 

Duchies,  164 
Du  Guesclin,  556,  561 
Duns  Scotus,  466,  477 
Dutch,  330  n. 

Eastern  Question,  527 
Eclogue,  Fourth,  303 
Economics,  293.  See  also  Nat¬ 
ural  economy 

Education,  in  Gaul,  7-1 7;  in 
twelfth  and  thirteenth  cen¬ 
turies,  458  ff. 

Eichstadt,  123 
Einhard,  278 
Ekkehard  of  Aura,  278 
Elections,  clerical,  189,  204- 
205,  416 


Elnon,  1 15 

Eloi,  St.  (Eligius),  75,  83,  133 
Emmeran,  St.,  118 
Empire  and  Papacy,  424,  431, 
474-476,  485-486 
Enfranchisement,  25,  256 
Erfurt,  123 
Escheats,  190 

Estates,  French,  551,  558,  559, 
560 

Ethici,  291 
Euclid,  55 

Eudes  de  Chateauroux,  357 
Eugenius  III,  419,  423,  429 
Eulogy  of  the  Nezv  Militia,  428 
Eumenius,  11-12,  17 
Euric,  59 

Excommunication,  185,  201 
Exempt  monastery,  124,  137, 
394 

Exile  and  Native  Land  of  the 
Soul,  or  the  Arts,  293 

False  Decretals,  394 
Farinata  degli  Uberti,  490 
Faritius,  297 

Fathers,  Church,  277,  303,  313. 
See  also  names  of  individual 
Fathers 

Fazio  degli  Uberti,  292 
Feudalism,  24.  474,  476,  477, 
480,  485 ;  elements  of,  159- 
167;  obligations  of,  168-170; 
realities  of,  171-176,  432- 
433,  452,  456;  wars  of,  177- 
187;  and  the  Church,  188- 
201,  202-209;  non-universal¬ 
ity  of,  210-21 1 ;  feudal  group, 
159-163;  in  France,  162- 
163,  164,  166-167,  194,  433, 
515-517 

Fidelity,  oath  of,  168,  205 
Fief,  24,  159,  160,  162,  164,  169- 
170,  172,  193,  200,  204,  207, 
210 

Filarete,  543 


585 


Index 


Flamenca,  321 

Flanders,  clothing  trade  in, 
134;  pretended  count  of,  273- 
276 

Fontevrault,  157 
Forfeiture,  190 
Fonnariage,  27 
Formigny,  558,  565 
Fortifications,  358-360 
France.  See  Art  of  War,  Feu¬ 
dalism,  Gaul,  Literature,  Ro¬ 
mance  Languages 
Francis  I,  324 
Francis,  St.,  290,  545 
Franciscans,  198,  456,  460,  487, 
488 

Frankfort,  363 

Franks,  47,  60-86,  114,  115, 
1 19,  123,  246,  328;  in  Holy 
Land,  250,  252-253,  258,  259, 
260-261,  263,  264.  See  also 
Carolingians  and  Merovin¬ 
gians 

Fraticelli,  488 
Fredegundis,  77 
Frederick  II,  478,  525 
Frederick,  elector,  342,  343 
Freedmen,  25-26 
Freising,  118,  123 
French,  321,  322,  323,  324-325 
Frisians,  114,  119,  120,  121,  128, 
328 

Fulda,  124,  128,  282,  298 
Fundus,  19,  20 

Gaelic,  315, 

Gaiseric,  49,  88 

Gall,  St.,  85,  1 17 

Gallic,  314-315 

Gallo-Roman,  312,  313-316 

Garden  of  Delights,  308 

Garlic,  255 

Gamier,  322 

Gascon,  318 

Gascons,  315 

Gate,  city,  360 


Gaul,  Roman,  5,  7-17,  21,  37, 
53,  61,  131,  132,  314 
Gelimer,  88-89 
Genoese,  216,  226,  251-252 
Geoffrey  of  Beaulieu,  494,  496, 
501,  5io 

Geometry,  218,  293,  308,  355,  472 
Gerard,  St.,  156,  319 
Gerbert,  278,  279,  297,  376-405 
German,  326-347 
Germany.  See  German,  Liter¬ 
ature,  Missions 
Gesta  Romanorum,  301 
Ghanim,  230,  235 
Ghibelline,  485,  489-490 
Gilbert  de  la  Porree,  426,  458 
Gildas,  St.,  304 
Gleba  sanatoria,  36 
Goethe,  525 
Goliards,  279 
Gonzo  of  Novara,  297 
Goths,  44,  47,  48,  327-328,  543- 
544.  See  also  Ostrogoths 
and  Visigoths 

Grammar,  15,  218,  290,  293,  294, 
295,  308,  353.  355,  356 
Grammont,  156 
Granada,  234-235,  236 
Grande-Sauve,  156 
Grand  Ordinance  of  1439,  559- 
560,  561 
Gratian,  8,  37 

Greek,  5,  6,  15-16,  63,  279,  486 
Greeks,  costume  of,  214 
Greens  and  Blues,  87,  91-96, 
101-108 

Gregory  the  Great,  115,  280 
287,  504 

Gregory  II,  116,  121 ;  III,  122; 
V,  397-401 ;  VII,  149,  150, 
203,  205,  207,  478,  487;  IX, 
307,  461 ;  XI,  461 
Gregory  Nazianzen,  280,  287 
Gregory,  St.,  of  Langres,  70 
Gregory,  St.,  of  Tours,  63-73, 
77,  80,  82,  86 


586 


Index 


Guardian  of  the  guest-rooms, 

14  7 

Guardianship,  feudal,  169,  178 
Gudrun,  335 
Guelf,  485,  490 
Guido,  cleric,  296 
Guigo,  204 

Guillaume  de  Puylaurens,  434, 
439,  448,  457 
Gules,  255 
Gundobald,  71 

Guntram,  71,  72,  77-79,  116 
Gutzkow,  525 

Hadith,  530  • 

Hadrian,  8 

Hartmann  of  Aue,  335 
Heine,  525 

Heinse,  Wilhelm,  525 
Helinandus,  289,  348 
Henry,  duke  of  Bavaria,  382, 

383 

Henry  of  Veldeke,  335 
Henry  III,  of  England,  502; 

V,  of  England,  554 
Heresy,  426,  430,  432-457,  53° 
Herrad,  308 

Hesse,  121,  122,  123,  328 
High  German,  329  ff. 

Himerius,  17 
Hippocrates,  293,  300 
Hippodrome,  at  Constanti¬ 
nople,  87-113,  213-214,  526 
Hirschau,  147 
Hispano-Roman,  312,  315 
Holy  Land.  See  Crusades  and 
Syria 

Homage,  159,  166,  170  171,  172, 
173,  200 

Homer,  15,  279,  288,  297,  300, 
542 

Honorius  Augustodunensis,  292 
Horace,  16,  56,  277,  288,  289, 
291,  297,  306,  310 
Hornbach,  118 
Hospitalers,  251,  455 


Hubert,  118,  123 
Hugh,  duke  of  France,  384; 
king,  386,  387,  388,  389,  390, 
392,  393,  395 

Hugh  I,  abbot,  145,  147,  148, 
149- 151,  289 

Hugh  I,  of  Burgundy,  150 
Humanists,  279,  313,  460,  525, 
543  ff. 

Humbert  de  Beaujeu,  272 
Hungary,  470 
Huns,  47,  51,  52 
Huss,  John,  198 
Hyginus,  293 
Hypatius,  102,  111-112 

Ibn-al-Haddad,  '232-234 
Ibn-Charaf.  See  Djafar 
Ibn-Jubair,  257  ff. 

Ibn-Man.  See  Motacim 
Ibn-okht-Ghanim,  230-231,  235 
Iconoclastic  controversy,  533 
Iconography,  Byzantine,  222 
lie  de  France,  185,  321-322, 
323,  325 
Iliad ,  297 

Immunity,  190,  208 
Infraction  of  truce,  182 
Innocent  II,  420,  421,  422;  III, 
43i,  449-450 
Inquisition,  the,  442,  447 
Institutes,  of  Justinian,  299 
Investiture,  200 
Ireland,  83,  84,  116;  learning 
in,  84-85 
Irish,  315 

Isidore  of  Seville,  277,  304 
Istakhri,  215 
Italo-Roman,  312 

Jacopone,  488 

Jacques  de  Vi  try,  349,  350,  467 
Jean  d’Abbeville,  353 
Jean  d’Anglure,  271-272 
Jean  d’Hauteville,  299 
Jean  d’Outremeuse,  304 


587 


Index 


Jeanne,  of  Flanders,  273,  275- 
276 

Jerome,  St.,  13,  280,  287,  304, 
504 

Jesuits,  463 

Jews,  363-364.  373.  407,  433, 
448,  455,  466,  505-506 
Joachim  de  Flore,  198,  488 
Jockeys,  92-93 
Johanitsa,  272-273 
John  Chrysostom,  St.,  303 
John  XI,  140;  XIV,  380;  XV, 
393  -  397 

John  of  Cappadocia,  103,  108 
John  of  Parma,  198,  488 
John  of  Salisbury,  278,  279,  283, 
299 

Joinville,  482,  492,  493,  497,  499, 
501,  502,  503,  505,  506,  507, 
508-510,  511,  512,  516-519, 
522 

Jongleurs,  450,  468,  469 
Josephus,  305 
"Judges  of  the  Peace,”  184 
Judicial  duel,  74,  80,  173,  179- 
180 

Jugerum,  34 
Julian,  9,  38 
Julian,  St.,  67 

Justiciar.  See  Lord  high  jus¬ 
ticiar 

Justin  Martyr,  302 
Justinian,  88-89,  92,  96,  101, 
103-113,  217,  218,  531 
Juvenal,  289,  291,  292,  297,  306 
Juvencus,  298 


Kilian,  St.,  85,  119 
Kir  at,  260 

Knight,  240-244,  247;  duties 
of,  243 ;  in  Holy  Land,  249, 
250.  See  also  Chivalry,  Feu¬ 
dalism,  Fief,  Lord,  Nobles 
Knighthood,  ceremony  of,  242 
Koran,  529-530 


Kosmas,  the  Indian  traveller, 
534  ff- 

Lactantius,  304 
Ladin,  310,  312 
Langton,  Stephen,  349 
Langue  d’oc,  318,  319 
Languedoc,  202-211,  432-457, 

478 

Langue  d’oil,  318,  319,  320, 

321,  323,  324,  325,  479,  482 
Latin,  3-17,  283,  294-295, 

310-315 

Latini,  Brunetto,  292,  489 
Law,  Roman,  295-296,  348, 
355,  433,  489,  528-530;  Lom¬ 
bard,  537.  See  also  Theodo- 
sian  Code 

Learning,  131,  145- 147,  376- 
377,  411,  425,  458-467,  503- 
504.  See  also  Church  class¬ 
ics,  Grammar,  Literature, 
Monks,  Schools,  Universi¬ 
ties 

Lectiones,  353 
Leo,  papal  legate,  288-289 
Leo  V,  emperor,  215;  VI,  219 
Leocadius,  70 
Leonardo,  527,  543 
Lepers,  497,  502 
“Liberal  Arts,  Seven,”  308 
Literature,  Almerian,  224-239; 
Byzantine,  217-221,  525  ff., 
538;  Franco-Italian,  479; 
Gallic,  32;  French  and  Pro- 
vengal,  319,  321,  458-459, 

479  ff-,  537-538;  material 
for,  from  Crusades,  269-276 
See  also  Learning 

Livy,  55,  277,  292,  310 
Logic,  307,  355,  477.  Sec  also 
Dialectics  and  Philosophy 
Lombards,  328 

Lord,  feudal,  duties  of,  160, 
170;  rights  of,  164-166,  169, 
171,  177-178,  204 


588 


Index 


Lord  high  justiciar,  165,  166, 
182,  195 

Lordship  (seigneurie) ,  159, 
163-166,  173,  175 
Lorraine,  382-388,  561,  563 
Lothair,  of  France,  377,  383, 

384.  385,  387 

Lothair  II,  of  Germany,  420, 
421 

Louis  the  Debonnaire,  134-135 
Louis  the  Fat,  184,  185 
Louis  d’Outremer,  138 
Louis  V,  385,  386;  VI,  415,420; 
VII,  206,  417-418,  427,  429; 
XI,  572-574 

Louis,  St.,  179,  180,  185,  319, 
322,  366-375,  482,  491-523, 
555 

Loup,  St.,  66 
Low  German,  329  ff. 

Lucan,  277,  279,  296,  297,  298, 
305,  306 
Lucian,  221 
Lucretius,  298,  310 
Luther,  342,  343,  345  “347 
Luxeuil,  1 16 
Lyons,  10 

Macrobius,  306 
Maghrebins,  260 
Magic,  348 

M agister  memoricc,  11 
Mainz,  126 

Majolus,  abbot,  145,  148 
Mamelukes,  251 
Manfred,  487 
Manicheism,  441 
Mansourah,  492,  51 1,  522 
Marco  Polo,  4.82 
Marcus  Aurelius,  502 
Marie  of  France,  299 
Marseilles,  9-10 
Martin  I,  1 15 ;  IV,  465 
Martin,  St.,  67-69,  76,  372 
Masonry,  469,  472 
Mathematics,  376-377 


Maximilian,  342 
Mechanics,  293 
Menander,  15 

Merchants,  213,  215,  250,  253, 
262,  267,  330,  433 
Merovingians,  60,  62,  63,  75,  82, 
84,  134.  See  also  Franks 
Metropolitan,  60,  62 
Michelangelo,  527,  544 
Migrations,  influence  of,  44-49, 
50-59 
Milan,  486 
Miles,  240 

Mirror  of  Nature,  209 
Mirror  of  True  Penitence,  290 
Missionaries,  services  of,  119. 

See  also  Monasteries 
Missions,  in  Gaul  and  Germany, 
114-128 
Mod  jam,  238 
Mohammed,  238,  254,  266 
Mohammedans.  See  Mussul¬ 
man 

Monasteries,  economic  influ¬ 
ence  of,  129-136,  158.  See 
also  Missionaries,  and 
names  of  monks,  monas¬ 
teries  and  orders 
Monasticism,  474-475 ;  Greek, 
533,  540 

Monks,  preservers  of  litera¬ 
ture,  282,  288,  290-291,  330- 
331.  See  also  Monasteries, 
Monasticism,  and  names  of 
monks  and  orders 
Monte  Cassino,  124,  282 
Moors,  224 

Mortmain,  26,  197,  205.  See 
also  Amortissement 
Moslem  civilization,  224-239 
Moslem  jurisprudence,  529- 
530 

Motacim,  225-239 
Mummolin,  319 
Mundium,  203 
Mundus,  109,  hi 


589 


Index 


Music,  293,  308,  355,  3 77 
Musnads,  529 

Mussulman,  249,  250,  251,  253, 
254,  260,  261,  266,  267,  268, 
376,  388,  404,  521-522.  See 
also  Moslem  civilization  and 
Moslem  jurisprudence 
“Natural  economy,”  362 
Neckkam,  Alexander,  299 
Negociator  ecclesice,  134 
Neo-humanism,  524 
New  Life,  542,  543 
Nexus  coloniarius,  27 
Nibelungenlied,  335,  538 
Nika  riot,  103-112 
Nithard,  320 

Nobles,  166,  172,  175.  See  also 
Knight 

Norman,  318,  321 
Normandy,  191 
Normans,  250 
Noureddin,  258,  260,  267 
Nutsell,  121 


Odilo,  abbot,  147,  148,  149 
Odilo,  duke  of  Bavaria,  118, 
123 

Odo,  abbot,  145,  148,  289 

Odoacer,  50,  52,  57 

Odyssey,  542 

Ogier,  243 

Olim,  187 

Ordeal,  74 

Ordo  militaris,  240 

Ordruf,  122 

Orleans,  348 

Ostrogoths,  50,  52,  53.  See 
also  Goths 
Otfried,  298,  331,  332 
Otto  I,  377,  382,  537;  II,  378, 
379,  380,  381,  382;  III,  381, 
382,  383,  397-399,  404 
Otto  of  Freising,  294 
Ovid,  277,  278,  292,  296,  298, 
305,  306 


Paderborn,  297 
Paganism,  spirit  of,  287;  in 
Constantinople,  528  ff. 

Pagus,  20 
Pala  d’Oro,  223 
Paneas,  258-259 
Paris,  348  ff.,  370,  478 
Parlement,  185,  187,  501,  515 
Passau,  123 

Passavanti,  Jacopo,  290 
Pataria,  488 

Patois,  317-318,  319,  325 
Patriarchate,  60 
Patrick,  St.,  83 
Patronage,  21,  22,  25,  175 
Peace  of  God,  183-184 
Pepin,  120,  125,  322 
Persius,  296,  297,  306 
Peter  of  Blois,  296 
Peter  Damiani,  487 
Peter  Lombard,  477,  488 
Peter  II,  436 
Peter  the  Venerable.  413 
Petrarch,  306,  482,  489 
Petroald,  380,  402 
Phsedrus,  299 
Pharsalia,  299 
Philip  I,  150 

Philip  Augustus,  191,  322,  370, 
512 

Philip  the  Fair,  193,  388 
Philip  the  Rash,  196,  366,  388 
Philosophy,  16-17,  218,  278, 
306-308,  377,  424-425,  459  ff- 
Phocas,  100 

Phocas,  Nicephorus,  221 
Photius,  220,  221,  532 
Physics,  293 
Picard,  321 

Pierre  des  Vaux  de  Cernai, 
444,  451,  453-455 
Pilgrims,  248,  253,  268 
Pindar,  297 
Pisans,  216,  226 
Plato,  55,  56,  289,  296,  300,  301, 
302,  303,  307,  308,  425,  460 


590 


Index 


Platonist,  526 
Plattdeutsch,  330 
Plautus,  300 
Pliny,  2 77,  292,  305 
Poems,  French,  on  chivalry, 
241 

Poets,  Arab,  227-237,  239;  pa¬ 
gan,  308-309.  See  also  Lit¬ 
erature 

Pompeius,  102,  ill 
Pons,  204 

Poor  Men  of  Lyons,  438,  ff. 
Popes.  See  Church,  and  names 
of  popes 
Prcetorium,  31 
Praguerie,  560-561,  563 
Pre-aux-Clercs,  356 
Precarium,  22-23,  29 
Prcux,  242 
Prevot,  373 
Priors,  142 
Priscian,  293,  296 
Private  war,  173,  179,  180-182, 
185,  187 

Procopius,  91,  98,  99,  102 
Professor,  position  of,  in  Gaul, 
14 

Provencal,  312,  325,  479 
Provence,  432,  440 
Provinces  of  Cluny,  141 
Prudentius,  298 
Psellus,  218,  221,  526 
Ptolemaic  system,  534 
Ptolemy,  55 

Publishers,  influence  of,  on 
German  language,  344 
Pullani,  252 
Purveyance,  169 
Pythagoras,  296 

Quadrivium,  355,  489 
Quintain,  242 
Quintilian,  278,  297 


Ranke,  541 
Ranulf  Higden,  300 
Raoul  de  Cambrai,  243 
Raphael,  527,  543.  544 
Rathbod,  120,  121 
Ratherius  of  Verona,  278,  279, 
297 

Ratisbon,  123 

Raymond  V,  437;  VI,  453-456 
Raymond  Lull.  467 
Raymond  Roger,  451 
Reichenau,  118 

Reims,  13.  377,  379,  380,  381, 
382,  386,  387,  389,  390,  391, 
392,  393,  396,  397, 470 ;  chron¬ 
icle  of,  273 
Reliefs,  190 

Remedy  against  Diseases; 
Usurped  Reputations  Re¬ 
duced  to  their  Proper  Value, 

237 

Renaissance,  279,  281,  294,  306, 
458;  antecedents  of,  474- 
490 ;  real  versus  pretended, 
545 ;  relation  of  antiquity  to, 
524-546;  spirit  of,  524 
Reynard,  480,  483 
Rhetoric,  15,  17,  293,  294,  308, 
353,  355 

Richard  the  Lion-Hearted,  191 
Richer,  379 

Right  of  testament,  206 
Roads  and  the  Kingdoms,  the, 

238 

Robert,  founder  of  Chaise- 
Dieu,  156 

Robert  d'Arbrissel,  157 
Robert  Grosse-Tete,  349 
Robert  I,  388,  389,  396,  397 
Robert  de  Sorbon,  348,  351- 
353,  354.  499,  501,  504,  509 
Roger  I,  422 
Roger  the  Old.  204 
Roland,  480,  483 
Roman,  312,  320,  322 
Roman  de  la  Rose,  483 


Rabanus  Maurus.  298 
Radulf  Glaber,  289 


591 


Index 


Roman  Empire.  See  Aristoc¬ 
racy,  Byzantium,  Rome,  Tax¬ 
ation,  and  names  of  empe¬ 
rors 

Romance  languages,  310-325 
Romania,  4 

Rome,  4,  286,  294;  decline  of, 
49.  See  also  Roman  Empire 
Romulus  Augustulus,  50,  57 
Roswitha,  298 
Rouen,  134 
Round  Table,  480 
Rupert,  St.,  118 
Rutilius,  4 

Sahib,  262 

St.  Denis  (Paris),  322,  415 
St.  Gall,  1 17,  282,  297 
St.  Marks,  91,  222 
St.  Quentin,  church  of,  470 
St.  Sophia,  87,  98,  108,  1 13,  212, 
213,  286 

St.  Wandrille,  134 
Saladin,  251,  267,  271,  272 
Saladin  tithe,  191 
Salerno,  348 
Salibiya,  258 
Salic  law,  75 
Salimbene,  492 
Sallust,  2 77,  278,  306 
Salvian,  42,  48 
Salzburg,  118,  123 
Sappho,  85 

Saracens,  244,  246,  249,  503, 
5ii 

Sarete  de  Faillouel,  493,  498 
Saxons,  59.  II9,  13b  329,  339 
Saxony,  Electoral,  342-343 
Schism,  280,  409,  420-423,  532 
Scholasticism,  281,  378-379, 

425,  430,  467,  474,  476-477, 
478-482,  489 
Scholasticus,  354,  378 
Schools,  at  Constantinople,  218  ; 
at  Paris,  348-356 ;  cathedral, 
377  —  378 ;  Cluniac,  146-147; 


French,  440;  in  Gaul,  6-7; 
monastic,  290,  297;  twelfth 
century,  458-459 
Science,  16,  381,  400,  466,  472, 
535,  545 

Scientific  spirit,  458,  466,  467 
Scriptures,  Senses  of,  305.  See 
also  Bible 

Sculpture  472-473,  526-527 
Seigneurie.  See  Lordship 
Senator,  18,  21,  30-33,  36,  40, 
4i,  56 

Seneca,  277,  291,  292,  300,  305 
Serf,  26,  74,  161,  166 
Serfdom,  20  ff. ;  of  the  glebe, 
29 

Sermons  in  the  vernacular, 
320,  467-469 
Sesame,  255 

Severus,  Alexander,  8,  14 
Ships,  253,  258 
Sicambrian,  59 
Sicard  the  Cellarer,  435-436 
Sidonius,  Apollinaris,  54,  56, 
.58-59 

Siger  de  Brabant,  465 
Sigibert,  king  of  Cologne,  65 ; 

I,  76,  77;  II,  1 15 
Sigibert,  disciple  of  Columban, 

117 

Simon  de  Montfort,  208 
Simony,  204,  416 
Sinople,  255 

Slaves,  24-26,  73,  74,  75 
Slavs,  328,  339,  536 
Socrates,  296,  300-301,  302, 
3?3,  308 
Solignac,  133 
Solinus,  292 
Somaisir,  235-237 
Song  of  Roland,  243 
Songs,  Arabic,  246 
Sophocles,  299 
Sordello,  479 

Spain.  See  Hispano-Roman 
and  Moslem  civilization 


592 


Index 


Spaniards,  224 

Speculum  Exemplorum,  290 

Spires,  126 

Spirituals,  488 

“Spring  of  th£  Ox,”  263 

Statius,  297,  305 

Stephen  of  Bourbon,  491 

Strabo,  8 

Strasburg,  198;  oaths  of,  320 
Students,  in  Gaul,  14 ;  at  uni¬ 
versity  of  Paris,  348-357 
Studies  in  eastern  empire,  217- 
218 

Sturmi,  124 
Suetonius,  278,  299 
Suger,  415,  417,  418 
Suidas,  220 
Sulpicius  Severus,  68 
Summa  Theologian,  463 
Suzerain,  162,  169,  170,  172, 
173,  181,  i8e,  190,  194,  195- 
197,  203.  See  also  Knight 
Sylvester  II.  See  Gerbert 
Symeon  Metaphrastus,  220 
Symmachus,  13,  54-55,  57,  58 
Syria,  journey  through,  257- 
268 

Tacitus,  310 
Tagliacozzo,  548 
Taille ,  197,  367,  434,  571 
Tassilo,  1 18 

Taxation,  Roman,  21,  30,  34- 
43;  feudal,  165,  166,  170;  of 
Church,  190- 193;  Frankish, 
260-261 

Templars,  251,  253,  428 
Tennis,  32 

Tenure,  feudal,  161,  162,  169 
Terence,  16,  277,  297,  298,  305, 
306 

Thebaid,  299 
Theodo,  118 

Theodora,  89,  96,  98,  100,  101, 
no,  1 13 

Theodoric,  52,  53,  55-56,  57 


Theodosian  code,  53-54,  530 
Theodosius  II,  217 
Theology,  353,  355,  459  ff .,  474 ; 

in  Byzantium,  531-533 
Theophano,  empress,  381,  382, 
384.  39i 

Theophilus  of  Alexandria,  287 
Theudebert,  duke  of  Bavaria, 
118 

Theudebert  II,  82,  117 
Theuderich,  86 

Thomas,  St.,  303,  458,  462,  463, 
464,  465,  466,  488,  489 
Thomas  of  Beverley,  271 
Thuringia,  122,  328 
Tibnin,  259-260 
Tithe,  206-208 
Toledo,  348 
Tolerance,  433,  455 
Tongres,  126 
Tournament,  178-179 
Tragoudia,  221 
Treason,  181 

Treatise  on  the  Duty  of  Bish¬ 
ops,  415 

Trebizond,  214-215 
"Tree  of  the  balance,  the,”  258 
Treves,  13 
Tribonian,  103,  108 
Trivium,  355,  489 
Troubadours,  432,  479,  481 
Trouveres,  245,  246,  335,  479, 
481 

Truce  of  God,  183,  184 
Trumpet,  255 
Turcopoles,  252 
Tyre,  264-265,  268 

Udalric,  abbot,  147 
Ulfilas,  328,  331 

University,  of  Constantinople, 
217-218;  of  Paris,  348-357, 
430,  460,  461,  465.  also 

Learning 

Urban  II,  140,  203,  207;  IV, 
488 


593 


Index 


Utrecht,  120,  126 

Valerius  Maximus,  292 
Vallambrosa,  157 
Vandals,  44,  47,  48,  49,  88 
Varro,  9 

Vassal,  159,  171-172,  177,  181, 
189,  194,  203,  207,  241,  370, 

372;  duties  of,  159-160,  162, 

168-170.  See  also  Knight 
Vassalage,  24,  170,  173 
Venetians,  250.  251-252 
Venice,  216,  486 
Vergil,  16,  56,  80,  145,  277,  278, 
280,  288,  289,  296,  297,  298, 

300,  302,  303-305,  306,  310, 

538  _  . 

“Vergilian  lots,”  302 
Vespasian,  8 
Vicus,  19,  20 
Vidame,  208 
Villa,  19,  31-32,  33,  131 
Villard  de  Honnecourt,  469 
Villeins,  161,  166,  169 
Villers-Cotterets,  ordinance  of, 
324 

Vincent  of  Beauvais,  299 
Virgilius,  85 

Virgin,  image  of,  270-271 
Viscount,  165,  175 
Visigoths,  47,  50,  51,  52,  53, 
58-59,  61.  See  also  Goths 
Visitors,  Cluniac,  144 

Waldenses,  438-440,  453,  455, 
488 

Waldo,  Peter,  438 


Walloon,  323 

Walther  of  the  Vogelweide,  335 
War,  art  of,  547-574;  Hun¬ 
dred  Years,  547-548;  tactics, 
552  ff.,  565  ff.  ‘ 

Wares,  Byzantine,  214,  215,216 
Watermelon,  255 
Wedding  procession,  265-266 
Whitby,  133  n. 

Wibald  of  Corvey,  280 
Widukind,  278 

William  of  Aquitaine,  138,  139, 

141 

William  of  Champeaux,  477 
William  of  Chartres,  494,  507- 
508,  519-520,  521 
William  of  Hirschau,  292 
William  of  Occam,  305,  466, 
477 

William  the  Conqueror,  151 
Willibald,  124 
Willibrod,  St.,  120,  121 
Windmills,  255 
Winfrith,  St.  See  Boniface 
Wipo,  295,  296 

Wolfram  of  Eschenbach,  335 
Worms,  126 
Wurzburg,  119,  123 
Wyclif,  198 

Xiphilin,  218 

Yusuf,  239 

Zacharias,  pope,  121,  124,  126 
Zeno,  50 


594 

0 


Date  Due 


M968 


1907 


84777 


